Bring on the Batman
by Feral2K
Summary: Based on the hit new series, Batman battles evil in Gotham City
1. I'll Be A Mummy's Uncle

Legal disclaimer: I do not own Batman, although I dearly wish I did, because then there would have been no _Batman Forever_ and _Batman and Robin_. I also do not own any characters contained therein, no matter what their introduction into the mythos of the Dark Knight is. I do, however, own the few characters that I have managed to actually come up with myself. If you want to use a particular character, ask me if I own them; odds are I won't, but there's always that slim chance.

Notes about this fanfic: This fanfic of _The Batman_ starts after the episode "The Laughing Cats" and continues from after that, ignoring the actual series. This isn't because I don't like those episodes, but I haven't seen them, and would feel uncomfortable referencing them without actual knowledge. I will introduce a lot of characters in this, mostly creations of Bob Kane, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, or any of the others that have worked on Batman since his inception. I will also bring back several characters from the series that have been MIA for a while. Hope everyone enjoys.

_It's all right, really. Just because it's dark don't mean that any of that garbage is true. Just keep your mind on the prize._ These were the thoughts running through the head of Jonathon Cassidy as he walked through the hallways of the Gotham Museum of Natural History. A week ago, Cassidy had heard of the Egyptian exhibit being brought here, and the thought of that much money, in the form of ancient gold and jewels, had made his mouth water. Now, he was inside the place, the night before the grand opening, and the place was his for the taking. Walking up to the first object he laid eyes on, a bracelet encrusted with rubies and diamonds, Cassidy casually picked it up and placed it in a knapsack he had brought in with him; having cut the power to the alarms earlier, he wasn't afraid of any of them being set off. And that was when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

"Who . . . who's there? Show yourself! I'm not afraid of you!"

This last was a complete lie, but Cassidy was hoping that whoever was walking around the room didn't know that. After a moment, the noises stopped. But before Cassidy could grab another item, they started up again. Cassidy, beginning to wonder if all of the nonsense about the exhibit being haunted was true, slid a gun out of his belt and walked into the main hall of the exhibit. There was nothing there but displays of ancient art, depictions of everyday life for the Egyptians, several empty display cases, and an opened sarcophagus. Nodding to himself, Cassidy turned to get back to his looting, and then stopped. _Wait a minute. Empty display cases and an opened sarcophagus?_ Turning back, he found himself looking into a pair of glowing red eyes.

His scream of sheer terror split through the nighttime silence, and then died.

**The Batman**

I'll Be A Mummy's Uncle

"Sir, I hate to disturb your current activities, necessary as they are, however . . ."

Bruce Wayne, also known as the Batman, Gotham City's Dark Knight and sworn protector, turned his attention from the van racing away from him at top speed towards the video screen he had recently installed in the console of the vehicle that both he and the media at large had named the "Batmobile". On said screen, a balding man in a tuxedo stood, waiting for some form of acknowledgement. Removing the rest of his attention from the chase at hand, Batman gave him that acknowledgement.

"Alfred, this had better be important."

"Well, sir, I know that you have been trying to capture the band of ruffians that I can only assume you are chasing at the time, but it seems that a dead body has been discovered at the Gotham Museum of Natural History, and this particular body suits your line of work."

You might have to explain in a little bit more detail than that. And keep in mind that I've been trying to catch Zombie for about a month now. I don't want to lose this chance."

"It would seem, sir, that the body is in a rather advanced state of decomposition. At least, rather advanced for a body that has only been in the museum for a half-hour."

"Fine. I'll just let Zombie get away, all so that some hotshot cop gets to meet the Batman. Who's in charge of the investigation, anyway?"

"Another thing in this city that merits your special attention, sir. Namely, one Detective Ellen Yin."

Zombie's jaw dropped in disbelief as, against all odds, the Batmobile veered into one of the many alleys that spider-webbed the city. After a few seconds of shock, however, a thought raced through his still-uncomprehending brain. _We've gotten away from the Batman. From the freaking Batman!_ Pumping his fist in the air, the skin-headed gang leader pulled his head back into the van that he and his two goons were using to transport the haul from tonight's apartment complex raid, just in time to see the smaller of the two in the back beginning to paw through the loot.

"Yo, Bird, take your hands out da bag 'fore I cut 'em off!"

As he said this, Zombie pulled one of the knives he carried out of his belt and brandished it evilly at his lackey. Bird, so named for the trained falcon that he claimed he had stolen from the Penguin, slid his hands slowly out of the loot bag. His cousin, the massive brute known as Trogg, had a different reaction to the threat.

"You leave cousin alone! He only getting his share!"

"Seriously, cuz, cool it. You don' wanna mess widda bossman."

"See, dat's why I oughta dump da two a' ya and get me some really thugs, like dem twins da Penguin's got, or dat sweet pair a' chicas dat jus' set up shop here in town, call demselves da Body Doubles. Dey can double wid my body anytime dey want, and dey still got more spine than the both a y'all fools. Dey don' like how I be talkin', dey tells ya. You bums, you pathetic. You nothin' but a paira wanna-"

"Dude, dude!"

With the sound of shattering bones, Zombie's ride ran down what appeared to be an aged man that had stepped into the street. The body had hardly landed when the sound of more yelling, as well as that of punches being landed on bodies, erupted from the van. So involved in their fight was the trio that they never noticed the body standing up, nor that it then proceeded to brush itself off and walk away, seemingly in search of something.

Ellen Yin stared yet again at the body sitting in the middle of the Egyptian exhibit's main atrium, wondering how it got there, and especially in such a terrible condition. The only other people in the building, aside from several abashed security guards, were a portly gentleman with the traces of a sunburn still lingering on his face, and a short, wizened old Egyptian man, who was much calmer than his sun-burnt companion. Unfortunately, he was doing nothing to contain the more excitable man, who was in the middle of a rant at the moment.

"This is an outrage! An outrage, I tell you! No one would dare do this to me, William Omaha Mackleroy, were I in my home country! But here, I have to deal with vandals sneaking in and desecrating my mummy! Sorcerer-Pharaoh Tut-Ra-Shan was to be the centerpiece of the display, but look at him now! He is ruined!"

"Sir, I told you, we'll get to the bottom of this. Now, if you could just calm down-"

"Calm down!? CALM DOWN!?!?!? My exhibition is ruined! I'll have the head of whoever did this, I will! I'll-"

"Is there a problem, sir?"

The voice that asked the question was low and gravely, causing Mr. Mackleroy to stop yelling at once. Both he and Yin turned to see a tall man step out of the shadows. Clad in a dark grey bodysuit, with a black cape and cowl contrasting that, he seemed to simply appear out of nowhere more so than anything else. The Batman was a sight that few in Gotham City had seen, and with good reason. Yin herself would hardly have believed any of the stories herself, had she not been a key player in many of them; most of the costumed criminals that had recently surfaced in the city were in jail because of her previous alliance with the Dark Knight. Nodding to him, she gestured to the body on the floor; Batman liked to keep things strictly business.

"We don't know who he is, but he hasn't been here all that long, despite the looks. We figure, judging by the bracelet we found in his backpack, that he was after some of the treasures Professor Mackleroy brought with him from Egypt."

"You forget to mention, Detective, that the creature brought back here is cur-"

"Oh, not that bit about the 'curse' again! Bad enough that you keep pestering me about it since I arrived in Egypt, but to bring it up here as well? Really, old man, your brains must be boiled if you believe that rubbish!"

"He may have a point, you realize. We have a man in custody that could hypnotize-"

"A parlor-trick con man!? You offer that as prove of a _supposedly_ ancient curse that can reanimate the dead!? I am insulted by you, woman. Purely insult-"

"You didn't notice these footprints, did you, Professor?"

The Egyptian man, Professor Mackleroy and Yin all turned to the sarcophagus, where Batman had been, unknown to them, inspecting the floor around it. The area he indicated was covered in spots with a fine dust, as well as some grains of what seemed to be sand. Batman spent a few more seconds investigating, and then stood up.

"That's not your mummy, Professor. Now, old man there, tell me about this curse of yours."

"Very well. In the ancient days of Egypt's glory, Tut-Ra-Shan was a mighty pharaoh. When he spoke, kings of far-off nations listened, and obeyed. He was master of the lands you now know as the Arabian Peninsula, as well as more beyond. But he also had a dark secret. He had made a dark pact with the demon Neron in exchange for this power, as well as his sorcerous talents, and Neron was demanding his payment. When Tut-Ra-Shan tried to fulfill his bargain by summoning the monster into our world, he was stopped, so it is said, by a slave girl and a dark champion from far-off lands. Mummified alive for his evil acts, he swore that he would return once he was freed from his tomb. My ancestors, the bloodline of Teth-Adam himself, became guardians, appointed by the dark champion, to keep this from happening. As such, when I could not prevent him from being taken from his resting place, I followed him here, to stop him from rising. And at that, I have also failed."

Bowing his head, the old man finished. Batman and Yin both seemed to be pondering what the man said, but Professor Mackleroy immediately began another tirade.

"See how ridiculous this man is? Teth-Adam, indeed. Teth-Adam is a myth, I tell you, a _myth_. And the 'demon Neron'. Demons don't even exist! When word of this fiasco gets aroun-"

It was just them that Professor Mackleroy noticed that there was no one else in the room with him. Glancing around quickly in shock, he turned away and walked off, slowly shaking his head.

Outside of the museum, Yin and Batman were searching the area for clues. Yin soon pointed out a strip of cloth lying on the ground; it looked rather old, and seemed to be ready to dissolve at the slightest pressure. Both stared at it for a minute, and then Yin shook her head.

"After everything I've seen since I came here, this has to be the weirdest. I mean, a psychotic clown I can deal with. An obese kid that never grew up, I can deal with. Even a guy that can twist himself into a pretzel, but a mummy? It's just too far-fetched."

"Just hope that he's a mindless zombie. I've fought dead things before, and let me assure you, when they can think, they're scary."

"So, what we gonna do now?"

This question, asked by Trogg, sent Zombie into a fury. Spinning on his heel, he threw the back of his fist into the larger thug's face, following that up with a vicious right hook which sent Trogg reeling. As Bird rushed to help his cousin, Zombie tried to mentally answer the question, and failed. Shortly after hitting the man with the van, the trio had gotten into another chase, this with the police. Forced to abandon the van, as well as their haul for the night, they were in a sorry state indeed. Before he could go any further with this train of thought, however, a new person that stepped out of the shadows interrupted.

"You there, thief. Attend me."

"Say what? I know you wasn't talkin' ta me, ya freakin'-"

The rest of Zombie's retort was cut off by the strands of some mysterious substance that wrapped around his body and face, gagging him. Trying to shout or break free, whichever came first, he watched as the man stepped into the light of the nearly-full moon. What he saw horrified him. A cadaverously thin _thing_ (for that was the only way to describe it) stood there, humanoid in appearance, wrapped in bandages like a mummy. On its head was a gold headdress, in the style of the pharaohs of old, while on the forearms were a pair of gold bracelets that extended from wrist to elbow. A golden collar hung around its' neck, drooping onto the chest, and it held a gold scepter with the head of a jackal on one end in its right hand. It strode forward, and then spoke again.

"Thieves, all of you. Tomorrow night, the full moon will rise, and I will perform a ceremony as old as time itself. If you aid me, the rewards will be great, vast amounts of wealth you could not imagine."

Zombie had finally managed to get his mouth free.

"Wealth, you say? Sir, you have yourself some hired hands. What can we do ya for?"

The thing seemed to smile with its eyes, and Zombie felt a shudder run down his back as he realized that what he had just gotten himself into was bigger than jewel heists and car chases.

"Accept my gifts, thieves, and do my bidding with them."

The next night, Detective Yin looked down at the crowd gathered for the grand opening of the new exhibit at the Gotham Museum. Professor Mackleroy had insisted that the police assign some of their best to guard the artifacts from further theft, and she had been one of those handpicked for that group. As of right now, she and most of the others there were squeezed into the upper levels, with a few plainclothes officers mingling with the black tie crowd. She shook her head. _Some people just don't understand the criminal mind_, she thought.

And that was when all Hell broke loose.

Bruce Wayne checked his watch, and wondered, not for the first time that night, if he could possibly sneak out while everyone else was staring at the priceless artifacts. _Batman would be the better choice for watching this place for thieves_. He had already noticed the police stationed in the upper gallery, and shook his head. _Some people just don't understand the criminals in this city_, he thought.

Just as he finished that thought, the doors blew open. The cause was an extremely ugly Neanderthal-looking person, whose fist was pulled back for another strike. Clearly confused by his own strength, the creature lumbered in, followed by another monster, this one in the shape of a man with a hawk's head, and wings sprouting from the shoulder blades. It preceded what seemed to be an animate corpse holding a pair of very distinctive knives. In fact, Bruce recognized those knives, as they had, just the night before, tried to cut his stomach open. _Zombie. But how did he get like this?_ As far as anyone knew, Zombie had no metahumanic abilities, and his appearance last night had been that of a normal, if overly tattooed, human. His answer came a second later, when an explosion of sand came over the stage, up in the rafters. The sand cleared to reveal . . .

"I AM TUT-RA-SHAN!!"

Most of the people stood still, staring in horror at what could only be Professor Mackleroy's lost mummy. Adorned in the jewelry that had been stolen last night, it stood on the rafters, staring down at the people below. Before the silence could stretch for too long, the mummy spoke again, this time not shouting.

"Behold, I am Tut-Ra-Shan, Sorcerer-Pharaoh of all Egypt, and lands beyond. 3,500 years ago, I was entombed alive, thought powerless. But now that I am free of the enchantments on my tomb, I may walk again. And walk I shall! My master, Neron, wishes for this plane to be his, and tonight, it will be! With the All-Seeing Eye of Horus within my scepter, no being can stop this ceremo-"

"It's Bruce freakin' Wayne! Tut, gimme a hand with this guy, wouldya?"

Tut-Ra-Shan and Bruce both turned, almost as one, to stare at Zombie, who had clearly recognized the latter without knowing how angry he would get the former. The mummy seemed to seethe with inner fury, and at that moment, one the policemen opened fire on him. Clearly annoyed, Tut raised a hand, unleashing a blast of wind and sand that knocked the officer into the wall. Turning back to Zombie, Tut-Ra-Shan glared in anger.

"Leave him, you insolent fool. We have more important things to worry about than-"

"C'mon, he's da richest guy in Gotham! We gotta grab him! I'll even let you decide the cu-"

At that, sand seemed to rip itself from Zombie, who melted back into his normal self. The sand flew into Tut-Ra-Shan's hand, and that was when Bruce realized it. _They're enchanted, somehow. It makes them stronger, but monstrous at the same time._ Grabbing Zombie, he wrestled the tattooed thief to the ground. While this was happening, Bird and Trogg made their moves, the former grabbing a diamond out of a display case and the latter grabbing Professor Mackleroy. Before anyone could make a move to stop them (although few of them would be willing to risk their necks against any of the mutated crooks), Bird and Trogg were gone. Tut-Ra-Shan crossed his hands across his chest and disappeared in a blast of sand.

"Alfred, run a search, now!"

Bruce, again in the cape and cowl of the Batman, was speeding through the streets in the Batmobile. Again. Trying to catch Bird and Trogg. Again. The chase wasn't going well, as Bird could at any moment raise himself to an altitude unreachable even by the sophisticated capture equipment that had been recently installed in the Batmobile, and Trogg was protected by Professor Mackleroy, whom he could use as a body shield against any weaponry fired on him, up to and including a full-on ramming. Disgusted, Batman almost didn't hear the question asked him.

"Sir, what should I search for?"

"Run checks on ancient mythology, particularly Egyptian, for any mention of the demon Neron. And hurry!"

"Very well, sir. And what, if I may ask, are you going to do in the meantime?"

"I'm going to get answers from the only person that has them. One way or another."

Yin ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. Zombie wasn't talking. Not only that, but at some point, unless she could prove, logically, that he had been involved in the robbery tonight, they were going to have to let him go. And since no judge would accept that such a thing as ancient mummies walking the Earth was possible, there was no chance of being able to hold him. Just then, her cell phone rang. Glancing at it, she was immediately intrigued. _An unlisted number. I wonder who this could be?_ She answered, and heard a familiar voice.

"Detective. Has Zombie admitted to anything yet?"

"No. And aside from Commissioner Gordon, no one that wasn't at the museum wants to believe anything that we said. I think we're going to have to let him go, and I don't-"

"Do it."

"What!? After what he-"

"Just do it. And then meet me at the Bat-Signal in half-an-hour."

Half-an-hour later, Yin made her way up to the top of the building housing the Bat-Signal. She unlocked the door to the roof(she and Commissioner Gordon were the only two people on the force with keys) and walked out to see Batman dangling Zombie from the roof by his ankles. Zombie, obviously a master of self-preservatory techniques, was spilling his guts to the Dark Knight.

"He-he said we'd b-be rich. Wh-who could re-refuse dat? Wh-who, I ask ya? He m-made us t-take him ta dis hotel, scope it out, s-s-see if it would work f-for him. Then he t-t-told us tag-go home, get some sleep. When we woke up, we was like we was at da museum. I tell ya-"

"What hotel?"

"I d-don't-"

Batman loosened his grip, not enough for Zombie to drop, but certainly enough for him to slip a little.

"Da Plaza! It was da Plaza! Please don't drop me! Please!"

"Here's what you're going to do, Zombie. When I put you back on the roof, you're going to the nearest police station, and you're going to tell them everything you just told me. And then, you're going to get very comfortable in one of the holding cells there, because that's what your world is going to be like for a while."

"Anything, anything! Just don't drop me!"

With that, Batman hauled the tattooed gangster back onto the roof. Zombie fled for the stairs, clearly intent to do exactly what Batman had just told him to do. Yin watched him fly down the stairs, two and three at a time, and shook her head. If she had done that, she would be out of a job in seconds. But sometimes, those things were necessary. She looked at Batman, and decided to ask the question that had been bouncing around in her brain since Tut-Ra-Shan first appeared.

"Think you'll need backup?"

When he got down to the Batmobile, Batman noticed that there was a small pile of papers in the driver's seat; Alfred had gotten the information he needed, and had printed it out for easy reference. Getting in, he handed the papers to Yin.

"Go through these. See if there are any weaknesses or vulnerabilities listed."

"Don't you have a sidekick for this?"

"I haven't seen her all night. But she's connected, so I'm sure she's already trying to find me."

Most of the drive passed by in silence; Yin was busy looking for some useful piece of information, and Batman didn't want to disturb her. As they neared the Plaza, Yin made a noise in her throat. Batman looked at her sideways, as though to prompt her to speak.

"Well? Find anything?"

"Something, though it's not much use if Tut's already summoned him. The ritual needed to summon Neron is a pretty precise and complicated thing. If we can interrupt him before the human sacrifice – that's why he grabbed Mackleroy, I guess – then Neron can't break through into our world. Problem is, we're going to need to get through those two monsters he's got with him, plus any other nasties he might have called in to help out."

"Don't worry. Like you said, that's why I have a sidekick."

"You want me to what!? No way. If you go in, I want to go in too. You know, watch your back, and all."

"We need someone to distract Bird and Trogg, and that's something your good at."

"Hey!"

"We can't afford the luxury of waiting, Batgirl. Any minute, Tut-Ra-Shan will start the ceremony, and if we can't stop him, then Gotham becomes the throne for an evil greater than anything you've seen thus far. So just get Bird and Trogg out of the way, and let us handle the rest."

Mumbling under her breath, Batgirl stalked off, getting ready to lure the two mutates away from their guard post. Batman walked back to the Batmobile, and popped open a hatch in the side of the car. Inside were a few small objects that he had added to his arsenal after his experience with Dracula. Yin looked at them, puzzled.

"A thing of water and a bone? What are these going to do for us?"

"Just pick one. They go around the neck."

Shrugging, Yin took the small glass ball containing the water and put it around her neck. Batman did the same with the bone. Grabbing a few extra Batarangs, smoke bombs and other necessities, he grabbed Yin around the waist and shot a grappling hook into the air, letting it yank both of them up and away.

"Yah!"

Barbara Gordon, also known as Batgirl, sidekick to the Batman, screamed as Bird dove at her, slicing the line from which she was swinging. With that severed, she dropped into a Dumpster, emerging covered in old food wrappers, shredded clothes, and some things she'd rather not think about. _Distract them. That's something you're good at. Next time, he does the distracting, and I kick the mastermind's butt._ Flinging herself out of the Dumpster – she was going to have to wash her costume a few times to get the stink out – she adopted a stance that she had seen Batman in a few times.

"Give me your best shot, losers."

Bird and Trogg looked at each other, and then they laughed. Trogg hauled off and flung a punch that would have liquefied bone, were it to connect. At the last moment, Batgirl flipped out of the way, jumped, and used Trogg as a springboard, flinging herself over Bird and out into the street. _Let's see how fast you two can run!_

Batman and Yin crept through the empty hallways of the Plaza. The hotel wasn't open yet, so it would make the perfect place for Tut-Ra-Shan to hold his ceremony free of distractions. Despite the quiet, or perhaps because of it, Batman had a Batarang clutched in his left hand, and Yin had her gun drawn, although both of them doubted that either weapon would be of much use; after all, Tut-Ra-Shan was dead, and they had both seen him shrug off bullets at the museum. As they progressed to the roof(the printout had said that the open air was necessary for the ceremony), Batman heard a low chanting.

"He's starting. We need to get to the roof fast."

"Got another grappling hook?"

Tut-Ra-Shan stood, hands raised, on the roof of the nearly-completed hotel. The veil between worlds was thin here, oh so thin, and piercing it would be no problem at all. That was why he only needed one sacrifice – the fool that had freed him would do nicely – and could proceed without needing most of the beginning of the incantation. Reaching for the All-Seeing Eye of Horus, he placed it within his the mouth of the jackal on the head of his scepter. Raising his arms, he thought he could see the outline of Neron in the sky, ready to break free of his tormented plane of existence and wreak havoc on this one. As he brought his scepter swinging down to cut his gagged sacrifice open, however, something flew through his field of vision. His thrust was somehow thrown off, and his scepter stabbed half its' length into the roof. At that, Tut-Ra-Shan noticed that his left hand was missing; a quick glance behind him showed the reason for this. It was attached to a blade. And that blade was in the hands of-

"Stop this, Tut. You can't win without this."

The warrior from the last time! _How had he survived all these years, and still in such perfect form?_ Tut-Ra-Shan chased the thought from his head. This could not, was not the warrior that had defeated him the last time. He felt his lips rise beneath the wrappings over his face. The fool had doomed himself with that attack.

"How soon you forget, warrior. I am a GOD!"

With that, he cast a spell of pure entropy from his severed hand. The force of the blast sent the appendage flying back to him, and he deftly caught it and reattached it to his wrist. When the remnants of the spell faded, he noticed that the warrior was still standing. But how . . . ?

"Holy relic, Tut. Your powers can't hurt me while I'm wearing it."

"Then let us remove it!"

Batman was amazed at the speed that the creature he was now mentally referring to as "King Tut" could move. Before he could even think to dodge, Tut was atop him, tearing at the saint's bone that was dangling around his neck. Batman tried to fight back, but what could he do. A smoke bomb would do nothing, and the creature was just too strong to grapple with. Before it could deliver the _coup de grace_, Yin spoke from behind them.

"Bet you can't get your boss here without this."

Both Tut and Batman looked to see Yin spinning the scepter deftly between her fingers. Tut let loose with a roar of outrage, diving for the scepter. Before Yin could do anything to stop him, he was on top of her, tearing the thing out of her fingers. With a roar of triumph, Tut raised the relic over his head, prepared to cut the wall between worlds and release a creature no living being could fathom. And that was when the idea came to Batman.

"Why bother?"

"What say you, warrior?"

"Why are you bothering to free Neron? Did he help you when your people overthrew you? No. In fact, wasn't he the reason they buried you alive? Think about it. You're dead, left with nothing but a mission from a being that cares only to rule for itself. You think there's going to be room enough for two of you when he comes through? No. In fact, you're weaker than you could be, all in trying to follow through with a fool's errand."

The mummy seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then grinned evilly with its' eyes.

"You are correct, warrior. Why should I bother with Neron? Why should I bother with sharing power with the fools of this time? I am Tut-Ra-Shan, and this world will belong to ME!!!"

Cackling, Tut raised the scepter, and that was when Neron did exactly what Batman had counted on him doing. Phantasmal face contorted in a grimace of sheer outrage, the demon bellowed. The sound did nothing to Batman and Yin, but Tut caught the full force of it, body dissolving under the onslaught. As he dissipated, though, Batman could hear his voice on the wind. It said, _We will meet again, warrior. And your end will be as unpleasant as it will be long._ As the sound of those words faded, so did Tut-Ra-Shan, until all that was left was a fine powder. On top of the largest pile of the powder was the diamond that he had stolen from the museum. Batman crossed the roof and picked it up.

"I should probably hold onto this. You know, in case he comes back for it."

"Agreed. Now, what do we do about the professor here?"

"Untie him, and then send some police units to Grant Street. They should find a gift there from Batgirl."

With that, Batman jumped from the edge of the roof. Triggering the electric currents in his cape, he glided down to the Batmobile, which he entered. The last Yin saw of him was a streak of exhaust as he sped away. Then, she turned to the professor. Someone had to untie him, after all.

**Villain Bio:** King Tut(_first appearance – Batman(1966))_

Buried alive after his failed attempt to conjure the demon Neron, Sorcerer-Pharaoh Tut-Ra-Shan awoke in a time of machine and madness. Deciding first to summon Neron again, Tut was dissuaded from this path by power madness, and was seemingly destroyed. However, he was thought dead once before.


	2. Heart Of Darkness

Legal disclaimer: I do not own Batman, although I dearly wish I did, because then there would have been no _Batman Forever_ and _Batman and Robin_. I also do not own any characters contained therein, no matter what their introduction into the mythos of the Dark Knight is. I do, however, own the few characters that I have managed to actually come up with myself. If you want to use a particular character, ask me if I own them; odds are I won't, but there's always that slim chance.

Notes about this fanfic: This fanfic of _The Batman_ starts after the episode "The Laughing Cats" and continues from after that, ignoring the actual series. This isn't because I don't like those episodes, but I haven't seen them, and would feel uncomfortable referencing them without actual knowledge. I will introduce a lot of characters in this, mostly creations of Bob Kane, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, or any of the others that have worked on Batman since his inception. I will also bring back several characters from the series that have been MIA for a while. Hope everyone enjoys.

Notes about this chapter: This chapter, and the character of Obsidian, are something that I have wrestled with for some time now. It is a more personal chapter than any other, mostly because I, like Obsidian, went through high school feeling friendless, unwanted and alone. This chapter contains my dark side. I don't want to upset anyone, but if you don't want to see my darkness, then close your eyes, because this chapter is full of it.

Barbara Gordon was sprinting down the street, trying to get to school before the morning bell rang. She had been through a lot, including a knockdown, drag-out brawl with a pair of mystically mutated thugs just the night before. She'd passed out shortly after getting home, and had slept through her alarm clock. She didn't want to have to explain why this had happened to her father, who wouldn't be happy with a simple "I slept late". He'd want to know why, and she knew that if he pressed her, she might let out her secret – that she was Batgirl. He'd never let her out of his sight again. As she turned the corner, she saw that most of the students were standing outside. Confused, she checked her watch. It was about 8:30 – making her officially late – but everyone was milling around outside, looking confused. Then a voice came over the loudspeakers outside the building, a voice that she recognized. It was Nick Farrell, a kid she sat next to in homeroom. What he said chilled her to the bone.

"All right, kiddies. If you ever want to see this homeroom alive again, you'll have the cops get here quick, and you'll keep them outside the building. If not, then . . . well, let's just say that I'm a really good shot."

**The Batman**

Heart of Darkness

Jim Gordon squinted, trying to see through one of the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of this kid that had taken over the school. Stupid, really; judging by the fact that he'd been using the loudspeakers, he was in the principal's office, somewhere in the middle of the building. He cursed the fact that he had no idea where his daughter was; logically, she was in with Farrell, as they shared a homeroom, but there was no taunting being directed at the police regarding this. Jim then cursed himself. Logic had no part in this; the kid had snapped, and there was no telling what he would do. At that moment, almost as though the thought had summoned this, Farrell's voice broke over the gathered police.

"Goody good, the gang's all here. Now, hear this, you corrupt buncha pigs. I have pretty much an entire homeroom, minus myself and a few kids that played hooky, held in here. I don't count myself, obviously, because I'm in charge here. So much as one of you comes in, and BOOM! You explain to some parents what happened to their darling boy, girl, or other. Try and sneak someone in to take me out, and so help me, I will make sure you _never_ figure out what goes to who. Are we clear, Commissioner? Please tell me we're clear on this."

"Fine. Now, what do you want? I'm sure we can get it for you if you just-"

"No no no no no. No mind games from you, Jimbo. They don't suit you. Now, I will say this. Throughout the day, I may ask for things. You know, food, entertainment, etcetera. Regular bread and circuses. As payment for these things, I will trade students, however many I deem necessary to pay for these things. Until that time, I suggest you get comfortable. Am I clear on this?"

"Listen, we can wor-"

"No, we can't, unless you're in the business of murder. Because that's what I really want. You kill a few people that done me wrong in the past, and I let all these kids go, even turn myself in, if you want. But, that will cost you plenty. Want their names? I'm sure these few nobodies are worth, oh, I don't know, twenty-some kids' lives, right? How about one?"

"You leave her out of this, you-"

"Now, when did I every say anything about _her_? Have a personal interest in this one, do we, Jimmy-boy? Thought so. Doesn't that mean you have to sit this one out? I always thought that was how these things worked on the force."

While Farrell ran with the topic of police ignoring the rules that they were supposed to follow, one of the other officers was busy trying to patch into the security system for the school. When he got images from the cameras, he waved Gordon over. As they watched, one image came up: a boy, wearing a hooded sweatshirt, with something dark covering the top of his head, including his eyes. Still wearing the odd thing, the boy reached over and picked up a microphone. This was clearly for the P.A. system, as a moment later, his voice came over the speakers again.

"Oooh, bad call, Jimmy. Unplug those computers. Now."

"What are you going to do about it?"

Gordon wasn't expecting the response. The dark garment slid off of the boy's head, revealing eyes slit with rage. As Gordon and the other policemen watched, a hole opened in the air. The boy (Farrell, Gordon realized) reached a hand into the hole and pulled out a Chinese girl that looked to be about the same age as him. While she blinked rapidly for some reason, Farrell wrapped the arm with the microphone around her neck, putting his very lethal-looking weapon to her head.

"This, gentlemen, is Melissa Hagen. And if you don't cut the feed from those cameras, then she will have to die."

Barbara Gordon threw open the window of her bedroom. It had taken her about ten minutes to get a cab back to her and her father's apartment, and she'd been worried the whole time that something would happen to the kids in the school. She'd almost literally thrown her costume on, and decided that she could use the window this time; this was no time to be worrying about anyone figuring out her secret identity. Throwing her swingline out, she tugged it once it caught, and then threw herself out the window. She had to find Batman. Batman would know what to do.

"What, Alfred, am I going to do?"

Bruce Wayne asked this question, not really expecting an answer. He was sitting in the Batcave, eyes glued to the screen where he was watching three different news channels, all of which were covering the Farrell standoff. In particular, he was watching the footage where Farrell seemed to rip a hole in the air and pull a girl out of it. This intrigued him for some reason that he could not fathom. Alfred suspected that he knew the real reason. Since childbirth, Bruce had been fascinated by things that he couldn't readily explain. He had, from boyhood, wanted to solve these mysteries. However, this didn't seem to be one of those things that was so easily solved.

"Sir, perhaps you should leave this matter to the police. They seem to have the sit-"

"Alfred, one false move, and the police could condemn all of those kids to death. I have to do this. I can't let another family get torn apart the way mine was."

Alfred was on the verge of pointing out that such a situation was unlikely, but decided not to argue on the particulars. Master Bruce was right. The loss of any of the children would be a disaster, and Batman might be the only way to keep it from ending that way. Before he could suggest this, one of the newscasters got an update.

"It seems that the gunman has decided to release two hostages, in return for-"

"-Lois Lane. Either she interviews me, or no deal."

"Are you out of your-? We can't just call up Metropolis and-"

"You forget, _James_, that I happen to be in charge here. For that, price goes up. Lane _and_ Kent. Plus whoever takes pictures for them. You got till noon to get 'em here. Get 'em here in less than an hour, and you get double the kids. Farrell, out."

Gordon groaned. He was going to hate himself later, when the kid was finally taken down, but for now . . .

"You heard him. Get him what he wants."

It was fortunate for the police, and unfortunate for Farrell, that Clark Kent and Lois Lane had both been sent to Gotham to cover last night's Egyptian exhibition at the museum, and more fortunate that, due to police questioning, they had missed their flight back to Metropolis. It took a while, and a few favors exchanged, before Gordon could get them to come done. It probably would have cost him more, but the duo had secretly been planning to come down and get some information before leaving. As they walked in, two kids walked out. One was Melissa Hagen, while the other was a black boy with whom Gordon had become acquainted, mostly for the boy's habit of petty theft. Both broke into a run as soon as they crossed the threshold of the school, but Lane and Kent didn't turn back; if they did, who knew what Farrell might do in retaliation.

"Jimbo, thank you. But you forgot the photographer. That costs you points, buddy."

"I'm not your buddy. And as soon as those kids are all free-"

"What, you're going to take me down? Send me to rot in Arkham, like you did with Isley? Nice try, but you know, deep down, that you won't take me down. Not you, not Batman. _No one's going to stop me_. I'm going to get away, scot-free, and you're going to remember me as the one that got away. Ah, the reporters are here. Toodles, Jim."

Batgirl watched from above the police, perched precariously on the ledge of one of the nearby buildings' roof. She was nowhere near close enough to read the lips of her dad as he argued with Farrell, and she didn't want to get any closer. She desperately wanted Batman to show up. He would know what to do, and no matter what he told her to do, no matter how much she complained, she knew that he would be right. _Except for this time. I bet he doesn't know what to do right now, either._ There hadn't been a hostage situation like this since before she was born, that much she knew. Sure, there were bank stick-ups that went sour, but none concerning a metahuman since . . . _What was his name? Shade? No. Shadow Dancer? No. It was Shadow-something, I know that. But he's . . ._ Suddenly, something clicked. An old memory, from when she and Farrell had been together in grade school. _It's a long shot, but still . . ._ With that thought firmly burnt into her mind, she rushed off. She had to get Batman's attention somehow, and fast.

"I'm going out."

Alfred had left the cave under the presumption of dusting the parlor, but in truth, it had been to give Bruce some time to think to himself. In his heart, Alfred could not see how Bruce was going to be able to help. Batman was a creature of the night, and Farrell had chosen to strike during the daytime. So, when Alfred had come done to find Batman standing before him, he had been shocked, to say the least.

"Sir, if I may ask why . . ."

"According to the last reports, Farrell shot up the P.A. microphone he was using after Lane refused to give him front-page status. He's using some kid's cell phone to talk to the police now, but his temper's clearly loose. I don't know how long it will be before he starts shooting kids, but I can't let that happen."

Alfred dipped his head. He had known, in that one that one can know, yet hope against hope that he is wrong, that Batman would somehow get involved. But, as he asked a moment later, how did Batman intend to stop this child when he had no information on him?

"Go to the source. His mother. Also, I might know someone else that can help."

With that, Batman spun on his heel, headed for the Batmobile. Silently, Alfred wished him the best of luck, knowing somehow that he would need every bit of it.

"So, Jimmy, you ever handle a Toastmaker before?"

Gordon was getting tired of answering his phone, just to find that Farrell was still on the other end. The standoff was well into its' fourth hour, with no signs of letting up, and so far, they had recovered six students. Two for the reporters, three for some unknown reason (Farrell had just thrown open the doors and rushed them out), and one for a large pizza (Farrell had been hungry). At that point, Gordon had ordered the officer to jump Farrell when he came out for his pizza. The officer, however, had just stood there, dumbfounded, as Farrell took the pizza and went back inside. There had still been no explanation for the officer's behavior. Sighing, Gordon decided to answer the question.

"I've recovered se-"

"No, no, Jimbo, have you ever _used_ one before? Probably not, what with that whole evidence thing, but, have you ever wanted to? Just pick one up, put it on full auto and rip your way through the loony bin you cart crooks off to? That's what I got, you know. One of Falcone's goons sells 'em for cheap. Well, cheap for me, if you know what I mean."

"No. What do you mean?"

Gordon didn't mean to ask that. He'd meant to hang up, just tell Farrell to turn the Toastmaker on himself and pull the trigger, but that wasn't what had come out. Some part of him still wanted to believe that this boy was still worth saving, although that feeling was diminishing rapidly. Farrell, however, answered gleefully.

"My dad. Before he got killed, he used to work for good ol' Carmine. Please tell me you've heard of my dad. Maybe in one of those old case files? He called himself . . . but names aren't important. What's important is why I've hosted this little tea party. My dad got killed before I was born. Two guys did it. Their names are-"

"-Colonel Emmit Mayers and Lieutenant Andrew Marshall. They were cleared of all charges when the police figured out that the guy they beat to death was this old mob goony. He called himself Shadow-Thief. They said he could move through shadows like they were connected or something like that. I thought it was just something he said to make himself seem more important."

"So, what makes you think that Farrell is related to this 'Shadow-Thief'?"

"Well, it's something that happened in grade school. We had this career day, real dumb, and he said his dad used to help run the city. When the teacher asked what office he held, he said something about him helping 'Uncle Falcone'. I thought he was just making it up, but now . . ."

Batman took a moment to process this. Farrell's mother had said something about Farrell's father always being too busy to spend time with his family. She obviously hadn't known about her husband's double life, if he'd had one. Shadow-Thief, from what he remembered, had died a few years ago. He'd have to check the police files to be sure, but his gut, and the video evidence of Farrell pulling a girl out of a small shadow, told him that this was the right track. He'd have to be quick.

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to kill these two men for killing Shadow-Thief?"

"_My dad_. And, yes, that's exactly what I want you to do. Actually, let me do it. Then, I'll go with you. That's my final deal."

"And what about the kids?"

"Free as the day they were born. No questions asked."

Gordon was about to tell Farrell what he could do with that deal when Batman landed next to him. It wasn't a sound as he landed, but the fact that a presence had just appeared that tipped him off. Before Gordon could say anything, Batman took the phone from him and spoke.

"Farrell. Son of Shadow-Thief. Release those kids _now_, or I will come in there and take them from you."

"Batman? _The_ Batman? Sweet! I hit the big time! Tell me, Bats (may I call you Bats?), where do I rank in the whole hierarchy, huh? Clayface level? Joker? Higher? Do tell, big guy. I want to know."

"The truth? You're nothing but a nuisance. If not for the kids, I wouldn't be here right now."

"Is that it? _Is it!?_ You're only here for the kids? Well, better chalk one more up, 'cause I think I see your kid sneaking around in here. Best say buh-bye, Bats."

"What? Where-"

"Where I have all the other ones. That's where. And now, I tire of this game. I want to play a new one. And you, Batman, will play with me. Come in _alone_. We will fight, you and I. If you win, you get the kids, even yours. If I win, I get you. Plus, the bragging rights. Can't forget about the bragging rights."

"I'm coming. You'd better be ready."

With that, Batman hung up the phone. Handing it to Gordon, he left only these instructions.

"Give me fifteen minutes. After that, come in. He has something of mine, and I want to get it back."

Farrell was sitting calmly in the principal's chair when Batman walked into the office from which Farrell had conducted this entire affair. He was calm, with his Toastmaker pointed at the door, but he didn't fire when Batman came in. Instead, he turned it around and handed it to Batman.

"I won't be needing this anymore. Do hold onto it, though. I may be wanting it back."

"What? This whole time-"

"I didn't need it. This whole time, I was bluffing with an empty gun. That's right. _Empty_. I don't need a gun, when I can do this."

On "this", Farrell seemed to swell. His skin darkened and visibly hardened, and his features distorted, threatening something sinister. Muscles bulged, shredding the hooded sweatshirt and jeans he had been wearing. His features settled on something vaguely draconic, with claws, spikes and fangs in all the right places. In all, he now topped nine feet tall, and looked to weigh about five or six hundred pounds. His voice was now a roar that echoed throughout the room.

"I'm black as coal and cold as ice! I'm Obsidian, baby!"

With that, he charged.

Batgirl passed her hand in front of her face. Nothing. Whatever Farrell had done to her, she was now blind. But what had he done to her? She'd tried to sneak up on him, and he'd shot her with some black stuff from his hand. She'd felt a sucking that pulled her towards him, and now this. Groping around, she felt something in front of her. It was a person. Running her hands across the person, she got to the face, which was wet. Whoever this kid was, he or she was crying. She felt like crying, too. This place was starting to wear on her, and she'd only been here for what felt like a few minutes. It must have felt like an eternity to these kids. Crouching down, Batgirl did the only thing she could think of. She began to pray.

"Not so tough, are ya, Bats? Huh? HUH?"

Batman didn't bother to respond. He was too busy trying to think of a way to stop the power-drunk Obsidian. Inspiration came to him, was dismissed as too easy, and then came back with a thought of _What have I got to lose?_ Reaching into his utility belt, Batman pulled out a few flash bombs. Heaving them over his shoulder, he watched them explode against Obsidian's skin, only to have no effect whatsoever. Obsidian stopped to laugh.

"You thought that would work? Come on, Bats. All that little display did was make me angry. And you won't like me when I'm angry."

Unleashing another roar, Obsidian lunged at Batman, who ducked out of the way. Obsidian hit the doors that had previously been behind Batman and tumbled through into the gym. As he rolled, Batman thought he saw something unusual happening to Obsidian's back. It looked like fingers sprouting from the center of his back. And not just any fingers. They looked like Batgirl's fingers.

Now it was starting to make sense. Farrell, somehow, through his blood connection to Shadow-Thief, had access to the same shadow-world that Shadow-Thief traveled through. When Batman had come in to fight him, he had shifted the portal to his own body with the other shadows that made up his new form. And somehow, Batgirl had found that portal, and was trying to climb out. Before she could, though, she was going to test a theory of Batman's.

Pulling out his grapple gun, Batman shot at the one point where he thought he could reasonably penetrate the shadow armor. He was right. The grappling hook tore through Obsidian's lower jaw before sticking into the ceiling. It hadn't hit any fleshy parts, but Obsidian's connection to the shadows meant that he _felt_ the shot as though it had hit him in the mouth. While he howled and tried to tear the hook out, Batman swung onto his back. Reaching once again into his belt, Batman pulled out a heavy-duty flare and slapped it into Batgirl's half-emerged hand. As soon as he let go, her hand sunk back into Obsidian's back. At that moment, Obsidian tore the hook out of his jaw. For a second, it hung from his face, worthless. Then, the shadows began to knit back into their appointed shape.

"You are going to _pay_ for that. I'll bury you so deep in the darkness that no amount of tricks and gadgets will _ever_ get you out, and then I'll – AARRGGHH!!"

With this last exhalation came a burst of light from Obsidian's chest. Batman's theory was right: enough light shot through Obsidian would eventually hurt him, and that flare was doing a number on his shadow armor. As he watched, Obsidian shrank, becoming more human-shaped, although his skin remained pitch-black. One of the shadows, coming from his back, opened into a portal, about man-sized, from which poured the students that Obsidian had been holding hostage, Batgirl among them. While the other kids ran off, trying to find their way out while still half-blind, Batgirl walked over to Obsidian and kicked him full in the face, flipping him onto his back.

"No fair . . . was just . . . supposed to be . . . me and . . . Bats . . . "

"Well, that was before I showed up. Now, it's you and me. And maybe him" Batgirl amended, as Batman sent a glare in her direction. "But mostly just you and me."

With that, she launched another kick at him. Before it hit, one of Obsidian's arms lengthened, blocking the blow. Pointing it downward, he shot himself into the air, clearly trying to get some breathing room. Batgirl didn't give it to him. She was mad, and still frightened, and some other things she didn't want to think about. Kicking off of the ground, she met him halfway to the ground. Her fist sunk into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. With the loss of his wind came the loss of control of his powers, and his skin reverted back to its normal color. With one last groan, he passed out. The entire encounter had taken about ten minutes.

After delivering Obsidian to the authorities, with instructions to send him to Arkham, Batman dropped in on Barbara. She had gone straight to her apartment, and was waiting there when Batman arrived. He spoke first.

"That was stupid, trying to sneak in on him like that. You didn't know anything about the situation, and yet you just rushed in to stop him."

"Would you have done it differently, if you were me? He had my friends in there. I wasn't going to let him hurt them."

"You didn't let me finish. I said it was stupid. I didn't say that I wouldn't have done the exact same thing. By the way, I have something for you."

Reaching into one of the rear compartments of his utility belt, Batman pulled out something he had only given to one other person since his career as a crime fighter began: a Batwave. He flipped it to Barbara, who caught it, staring at it with unconcealable glee.

"It's time I treated you as more than just a tagalong. Maybe, even . . . a sidekick?"

"Partner."

"Hold it there. Partner? You don't have nearly enough experience to be a full-time partner. Plus, you're still in high school. See me in a few years, and we'll talk about full-time partnership."

"Excuse me? Who blew up Obsidian?"

"Who gave you the flare to do it?"

"Fine, you win. Sidekick it is. Now, scram. My dad's gonna be home soon, and if he sees you-"

Barbara had been turned towards her dresser, putting away the Batwave as she said this. When she turned around, Batman was gone.

"Man, I have got to learn how to do that."

**Villain Bio:** Obsidian(_first appearance: unknown_)

Torn apart by the death of his father, Shadow-Thief, Nick Farrell learned that he had some control over shadows, just as his father had. Using his powers to take classmates of his hostage, Farrell threw down with both Batman and Batgirl, and ended up in Arkham for his troubles.


	3. Bugger Off

Legal disclaimer: I do not own Batman, although I dearly wish I did, because then there would have been no _Batman Forever_ and _Batman and Robin_. I also do not own any characters contained therein, no matter what their introduction into the mythos of the Dark Knight is. I do, however, own the few characters that I have managed to actually come up with myself. If you want to use a particular character, ask me if I own them; odds are I won't, but there's always that slim chance.

Notes about this fanfic: This fanfic of _The Batman_ starts after the episode "The Laughing Cats" and continues from after that, ignoring the actual series. This isn't because I don't like those episodes, but I haven't seen them, and would feel uncomfortable referencing them without actual knowledge. I will introduce a lot of characters in this, mostly creations of Bob Kane, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, or any of the others that have worked on Batman since his inception. I will also bring back several characters from the series that have been MIA for a while. Hope everyone enjoys.

Author's note: Yes, I do know what it means to "bugger off". I thought it would be funny.

Tony Mandragora was furious. He had received a call to come meet a former associate for some "business" at the docks. He had come, and waited. His "former associate" was over two hours overdue, and he was beginning to think that the entire situation stank. In fact, he was almost to the point of telling his guards to pack up when a voice he did not recognize came from the shadows by one of the warehouses.

"Tony, old buddy. You've gotten patient. In the old days, you would have shot up the place and left a while ago."

"Eh? Who's that?"

"It's me. Drury. You remember me, right?"

"Drury! How could I forget?"

In truth, Mandragora wanted nothing more than to forget Drury Walker. Drury was a failure at anything he tried, and had almost gotten Mandragora in trouble with both the Batman and the law due to his incompetence. Mandragora signaled his men to be ready to fire. The world would not miss Drury Walker.

"Oh, Tony. Do you know how much that hurts your old friend? Almost as much as I'm gonna hurt you."

"What do you mean, Drury? You're a lousy shot, and you couldn't fight your way out of a paper bag."

"Before, maybe. But now, after what's happened to me . . ."

Drury stepped out of the shadows, and Mandragora felt fear. Fear of Drury Walker, a man who couldn't have inspired fear in a two-year old. The creature that stood before him now, though, was something out of a madman's nightmare. It was gargantuan. Inhumanly so. Its monstrous mouth seemed to smile with the next words.

"Now, I think I could eat you."

And eat him he did.

**The Batman**

Bugger Off

Batman tried to ignore the sound of someone retching behind him as he examined the desecrated body of one Tony Mandragora. The body, or what was left of it, appeared to have been chewed, and Batman would be willing to bet that this was indeed the case. Gotham City had more than its share of weird criminals, from the pasty-faced Joker to the shadow-controlling Obsidian, and almost anything in between. He turned to the entirety of the police force at the scene. Commissioner Jim Gordon had ordered the rest of the officers and detectives form a perimeter, or some other thing, so that Batman and his sidekick could work in private. Or, to be more accurate, so that he could work, while his sidekick emptied her guts into the bay.

"Did anyone see anything?"

Gordon, as seemed to be his habit when questions were asked about these sorts of crimes, sighed before he answered.

"One of Mandragora's guards, before he passed out, was rambling on about some sort of giant bug-man eating Mandragora. I'd doubt him, but given Mandragora's current state . . ."

"Understood. So, any idea what kind of bug?"

"He didn't say. Look, this is ridiculous. Am I going to have to arm my officers with bug spray until we catch this thing? Get a giant fly swatter?"

"Just, leave it to me. These things are my specialty. Although you could lend a hand, if you could get me a list of Mandragora's known associates. Knowing which ones didn't like him would help."

"All right. Just make sure your girl over there doesn't get anything on the crime scene."

With that, Gordon walked off, clearly going to get a clean-up crew for the site. After he left, Batgirl staggered over, having lost her dinner completely. She retched again when she saw the body, but managed to keep it down. After swallowing what must have been a copious amount of stomach acid, she managed to speak in a hoarse whisper.

"So, got any ideas? Or at least anything that'll get us out of here?"

"One of Mandragora's men said some sort of giant bug did this."

"So, we find this guy, and squish him, right?"

"Not as easy as you make it sound. To do that, we have to find him. And as for squashing him, we're going to have to be able to squash about nine feet tall, 200-some pounds."

"Only 200-some? Why so light?"

"If he really is a bug, he'll be light on weight. Most bugs are. It's part of what makes them so hard to drop-kill. Too light and diffuse to smash on impact."

"OK, starting to make me sick again."

"Head to the car. I won't be too much longer."

_Great, Babs. Just great. Two weeks into the whole sidekick gig, and you're already screwing up, _Batgirl berated herself. After what had happened with Obsidian, Batman had decided to take her on as a full-time sidekick. But on her first major case, she'd blown it, pretty much literally. She thought about just leaving Batman a note and going home, but decided against it. _Last thing I want is for him to think I'm not ready for this. All right, just suck it up. Try not to lose it like that again._ Just then, something passed over her. She wouldn't have noticed it, except that the draft that blew down on her almost knocked her down. Looking up, she saw what looked like a massive bug shoot across the moon, vanishing into the distance. Fumbling, Batgirl pulled out her Batwave.

"Batman! Big bug-thingie! _Huge_ bug-thingie! Right over the car, hurry!"

"Are you sure?"

His calm was infuriating. She had just seen what she could only guess was the bug-man that Mandragora's guard had seen, and he was asking her to double-check?

"Look, I can't. He just . . . flew off"

Deep down, Batgirl knew how stupid she sounded right now. But she didn't care. Whether or not this was the right man-bug (and really, how many of them could there be?), she wanted Batman to get over here, _now_. She wanted to prove to him that she could do this, and breaking this case open would be just the thing to do that. But by the time he got there, it was too late.

"So, one more time. What did you see?"

"Just like I told you, it was a big bug-thing flying from the top of that warehouse. By the time you got here, it was long gone."

"What type of bug?"

"I don't know. Butterfly, or moth, one of those. All I could really tell was that it had giant honk – I mean, it had big wings."

Batgirl knew what was going to come next. The Glare. She'd gotten the Glare her first night as Batgirl, when she had tried to bluff Batman into thinking that she was someone other than who she was. It hadn't worked. Much to her surprise, she did not receive the Glare. Batman instead asked her which warehouse she had seen the monster bug come from. She pointed at the one right behind herself. One grapple ride later, she was on top of the building.

That was where they found the second body. This time, Batgirl couldn't turn away in time.

Anissa Walker was on her way home when the mugger attacked her. To be honest, if she had been paying more attention to the street and less to herself, she would have seen him, and perhaps have had a chance to avoid him, but this was not to be her night. The mugger's demands were simple: her money or her life, just like in those old comedy routines. The proper response was "Give me a minute, I'm thinking it over," but Anissa was not in a joking mood, and neither was the mugger. Her please that she had a family to look after didn't help, either; they just made the mugger more insistent that she hand over her purse, or face the consequences.

And that was when the Thing came.

Anissa had never believed anyone that talked of guardian angels, or tempting devils, but devil was the only word that described the thing that now stood between her and her assailant. Its massive frame blocked her view, but she could here the mugger's demands that, whatever this creature was, it should move out of the way. The creature refused, and the next thing that she heard was a shredding noise. But it wasn't until the mugger's headless body fell to the ground that she decided that she should up and run. And run she did, never looking back.

"Ah, Batman. A most peculiar individual, you are. So devoted to the trouncing of the criminal genius, no matter what form it takes. Much like a modern-day Heracles, tackling the mighty Hydra, knowing when he did so that, for every head he removed, another would take its place."

"Enough small talk, Strange. Now, tell me about Drury Walker."

Hugo Strange leaned forward in his chair, staring at Batman and his precocious sidekick as they stood in his office, quite out of place with the décor. The other occupant of the room, the young man known as Obsidian, pressed his face against the wall of the containment unit used to transport him from room to room, leering at Batgirl; she had been the subject of yet another of his rantings about the world's unfairness towards himself. While Strange consulted a file, one of the staff workers calmly walked in, ignoring the costumed vigilante and his follower as he wheeled the transport unit out of the room. Finally, Strange found the file he wanted, and perused it briefly before answering.

"Yes, Drury Walker. Quite hopeless, really. Had quite the inferiority complex. Believed himself a worthless member of society, a failure, even to his children. Ah, yes. It seems he fancied himself a dabbler in the occult, even hoped to sell his soul for success. He was released from here about a week ago, right before you brought in the man with the puppet. Here, take a-"

At this point, Strange noticed that he was talking to an empty room. How long had he been doing so, he wondered, but then shrugged the thought aside. Perhaps he would see how Doctor Crane's research was progressing. Yes, that would be the thing to get his mind off of the Batman. Standing up, he exited his office. Nothing like a good scare to take the dark edge off of his thoughts.

"OK, that was kind of cool. All right, more than cool. It was amaz-"

"You're sure it was a moth?"

Batgirl sighed. Always business with Batman. No chatting, no talk about how the day prior had gone. Nothing but business. _On the plus side, no holding me back. I can do pretty much anything, and this guy won't care._ She shook that thought off, and decided to answer the question.

"Like I said, moth or butterfly. It was kind of hard to tell at a glance. Wait. I remember the eyes. Big red ones. Why?"

"Point Pleasant, Virginia. Hundreds of people report seeing the same thing. A moth-man with big red eyes. Never hurt anyone, but it kept scaring people. To this day, they've never caught that creature."

"Oh, come on. That's an urban legend. A myth."

"Hundreds of people, all making up the exact same thing? Not likely."

"So, you think that the 'moth-man' has come to Gotham for a crime lord barbeque? Didn't you just say that the one in Virginia didn't hurt anyone?"

"It's a theory. If this isn't some magical monstrosity of Walker's, then it's all I have."

"Great. So, it's either some creature of magic, or it's an urban legend come to life. Just great. Either way, how do we stop it?"

"First, we ask some questions. One more stop. But first, take this."

Batman handed a belt very similar to the one Batgirl wore over to her. Upon closer examination, it was discovered that this new belt was divided into compartments. Each compartment had some gadget or gizmo jammed into it, yet the entire thing was lighter than the one she already wore.

"Utility belt?"

"Utility belt. Better figure out what goes where quickly, because we may have to do some monster hunting soon."

Batgirl watched from the next building over as Batman snuck into an apartment. While she waited for him to come out, she amused herself by counting the number of windows that were lit at this time of night. More than she'd expected, but still not a lot. When she heard the thump behind her, she spun around, expecting someone in a bathrobe, wondering what a teenaged girl in spandex was doing on their fire escape. What she saw terrified her. Her first reaction was to flip away from it. A brilliant plan, if not for the ladder to the next level.

Batman was busy checking the apartment of Anissa Walker, daughter of Drury Walker, for anything unusual when he heard the cracking sound. Rushing to the window, he saw a titanic creature, a fusion of moth and man, holding Batgirl by the head. His first reaction was to throw a Batarang at the creature. The Batarang sailed forward, only to be caught about mid-chest level by what appeared to be a third arm. As Batman watched, the creature jumped off of the fire escape. Before it hit the ground, giant wings burst from its back, carrying it off down the street, and out of range.

Batman burst through the apartment, not caring about stealth anymore, desperate to find an answer to this increasingly difficult conundrum. He found it in a book, which was spilled open on a table in a room full of things in boxes. As soon as he saw the first word on the page, he knew what this creature was. He also knew one other thing. He would have to hurry, or else he would have to bury Batgirl.

"Owwwww."

Batgirl groaned as she came to, not noticing her position at first. When the pain in her head cleared enough for her to notice, she was shocked to find herself pinned to the ceiling of a dingy apartment, stuck by something similar to webbing. She tried to pull free, and was rewarded with a slight movement of her arm, but nothing more. That was when she noticed Him. He was pacing the room, seemingly unaware that a creature like Himself should not exist on this Earth. He brushed the ceiling of the apartment, antennae pushed backwards. One pair of arms was crossed behind His back, while another, smaller pair was crossed over His chest. Wings trailed behind Him, stirring up dust on the floor. His entire body seemed to be covered in organic body armor. _Chitin,_ she realized. He twisted His head at the echoes of her groan.

"At last, you're awake. I thought you'd cracked your skull on the fire escape. But this is so much better."

"And why's that?"

Batgirl asked this question, not much expecting an answer. In fact, she was amazed that she could even speak; this creature scared her so much, she would have thought she wouldn't be able to talk. Against all her beliefs, though, the creature answered.

"I need to talk to someone. Anyone. The last people I ran into, they all ran away, or tried to kill me. I had to do those things to them, just to get them to stop, to get this _hunger_ to stop. But it won't stop. It just won't, no matter what I do."

"Wait, hunger? What are you talking about?"

"Mandragora, his guard, that thug. I can't help it. I just get so hungry, and nothing else stops it. I shouldn't have tried to trick him, should have just paid the price, would have been easier, so much easier . . ."

The more this creature talked, the less sense it was making. Batgirl shook her head to try and clear it, then immediately regretted it as the pain came back. She had to get down, and preferably out, before she tried to do anything to this murderous giant. She suggested as such to the creature, causing it to grin.

"Of course. The others got a fighting chance, so should you. Makes the prey taste better, the adrenaline does. Adrenaline and fear, always tastes better."

"What!? No, dude, you misunderstood m-"

"Run, prey! RUN!"

In the years that followed, Batgirl would often wonder how she managed to get to the window, much less find the grappling hook that kept her from becoming street pizza. Her next real thought was that she should try and get this bug to splatter somehow. But how? Of course, there was always tricking it; the addled creature didn't seem smart enough to catch a trap. Seeing a construction site, she swung towards it. It was the Plaza Hotel, which she remembered from her encounter with Bird and Trogg. If she recalled correctly, they'd just put the wiring into the place, which meant . . .

KRANG! The creature bit into a girder, tearing out a section of it and spitting it aside. Batgirl realized that the only way to get it into a trappable position was to take out its wings. Reaching into the first compartment that came to hand, she threw a handful of small spheres at the creature. They exploded on impact, coating its wings in a thick, gluey substance. It hit the ground, and Batgirl thought for a second that it was done for. Then, she remembered what Batman had said about bugs being hard to kill by dropping. _Why, oh why does it always have to be hard?_ The creature got up, shook its head, and spotted her.

"He called me 'Charaxes', he did. Means traitor, in the old daemonic tongues, but it has a nice ring to it. That's it. That's my name, from now on! Charaxes, the Killer Moth! Fear me!"

As he stepped into a puddle on the site, Batgirl lobbed a wire into the wire, one that she'd just pulled out of the wall. Nothing. The wiring was dead. Charaxes stared at it for a moment, and then laughed. Batgirl grabbed the first thing she could find out of her utility belt. A disc of some kind. Furious at all of it, the laughter, the fact that she was probably going to die, the fact that Batman wasn't there to save her, she leapt forward and slapped the disc onto Charaxes' chest. One second passed. Two. And then . . .

THRUMM! An electric buzz split the laughter. Charaxres jerked, as though shot, and began to twitch, roaring in pain. Smoke rose from his back, and his convulsions worsened. Despite her opinion that Charaxes really needed to die, Batgirl tackled him out of the water, receiving a jolt in return. As soon as he landed, Charaxes stopped thrashing, although the smell of burnt bug filled the air. And over it all, there was the sound of someone clapping. Probably nothing, she thought, as she passed out.

"You could have helped me out, you know."

It was two nights after the Charaxes affair. Charaxes had been taken to Arkham, where he now spent his days in a padded room, trying to tear a hole out into the world. Batgirl's head still hurt, and she blamed that on Batman, too.

"You were doing fine. Although, wasting that device on one person . . ."

"What was that thing, anyway?"

"Electromagnet. It was for disarming people with metal weapons, or disabling people with armor suits. It was _not_ a glorified bug zapper."

"Your fault for not stepping in, then. How long were you there, anyway?"

"I got there about the time you glued his wings together. Genius, really."

"Jerk. And you let me almost die? I thought you liked me."

"I was seeing how you would do solo. If I really thought you needed help, I would have stepped in."

"I still think you don't need the tracker in my utility belt. I mean, I proved I can handle myself, didn't I?"

"All right. Give me the belt, and I'll take it out. Although, I probably wouldn't have found you without it."

"Fine. The tracker stays. But next time, lend a hand, will you? My head still hurts."

Batman didn't respond for a second, and Batgirl thought he had pulled a disappearing act on her again. However, he was still there. Batgirl took a deep breath, and then said what was on her mind.

"Look . . . thanks for giving me a chance. I know you didn't have to, and you probably didn't want to, so thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, there's still that Egyptian exhibit to get to. There's a statue of Bast there that I think someone will be stopping for soon, and we'll want to be there waiting for her."

With that, Batman pulled out his grapple gun, fired it, and swung off, with Batgirl following behind. It was official. She loved this.

**Villain Bio:** Charaxes the Killer Moth(_first appearance: Batman #63_)

Selling his soul to Neron for the power to succeed, Drury Walker mutated into the monstrous Charaxes when he tried to cheat Neron out of payment of his soul. Now, a soulless eating machine, Charaxes will do anything for the next taste of manflesh.


	4. Gender Bender

Legal disclaimer: I do not own Batman, although I dearly wish I did, because then there would have been no _Batman Forever_ and _Batman and Robin_. I also do not own any characters contained therein, no matter what their introduction into the mythos of the Dark Knight is. I do, however, own the few characters that I have managed to actually come up with myself. If you want to use a particular character, ask me if I own them; odds are I won't, but there's always that slim chance.

Notes about this fanfic: This fanfic of _The Batman_ starts after the episode "The Laughing Cats" and continues from after that, ignoring the actual series. This isn't because I don't like those episodes, but I haven't seen them, and would feel uncomfortable referencing them without actual knowledge. I will introduce a lot of characters in this, mostly creations of Bob Kane, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, or any of the others that have worked on Batman since his inception. I will also bring back several characters from the series that have been MIA for a while. Hope everyone enjoys.

Catwoman slipped through the window, easily passing through the clumsily installed laser alarm system. _A small fortune in that thing, easy, and I can just get through like that? This is too easy_. As she dropped gracefully to the floor, Catwoman considered her good fortune. She'd gotten away from Batman after the debacle with Kilgore and the Joker, and had decided to lie low for a while. But several needs, including the need to pay the rent on her posh apartment, had forced her to don her catsuit and strike out again into the night, raiding the overly rich. And to Catwoman, everyone with money was overly rich. Well, anyone but her.

Coming up out of her drop, Catwoman sashayed down the hallway, appraising the pictures and statues that lined it. Most of them were probably worth more than the thing she was here to steal, but her image was important, and her image demanded that she steal something cat-related. This job was the mummy of some ancient pharaoh's pet cat, and worth a fortune to the right collector. Disgusting thing, really, but who was she to complain? She was in it for the money. Mostly. Sometimes, it got personal, but normally it was about the money.

Walking through the door, Catwoman noticed that she wasn't alone in here. Instead of Batman, or his sidekick, or even some overly muscled guard, it was the one man in Gotham City that she could honestly say that she despised. He was sitting on the floor, knees bent backwards and ankles forward is a position that turned her stomach. His name was Ragdoll, and he had beaten her to the punch. Hissing, Catwoman pulled out her bullwhip. Time to see if she could strip a few rags, and probably some skin, off of this contorting buffoon.

"Kitten, how've you been? Not in jail, like me, but still, haven't heard from you in so long, had to stop and chat, know how it is?"

"Get out of the way, Raggedy Andy. I don't have time for this, although I can make some."

"Oh, come now, kitty, don't be harsh. I just wanted to give you a warning. And here he is."

As Ragdoll finished speaking, someone else stepped into the room. Batman. _What did I do to deserve this,_ Catwoman thought. It was one thing for Ragdoll to steal something that she wanted to steal, but another thing entirely for him to rat her out like this. It was unprofessional, and rather rude. But maybe, if she was fast enough . . .

At the same time, she and Batman dove for the mummified cat. As soon as they touched it, Catwoman felt a surge of warmth run up her arm. Something wasn't right. Ragdoll screamed something, and the world went white for Catwoman.

**The Batman**

Gender Bender

"Ugh. What hit me?"

Batman heard the words, in a man's voice, but not his. That was odd, because the only other guy that had been in the room when the light had flashed was Ragdoll, and his voice wasn't nearly that deep. On the subject of odd, he wasn't feeling completely with it at the moment. Something wasn't right about this. But it wasn't until he stood up, and got a good look at himself in the mirror, that he knew what was wrong. Standing there, looking back out of the mirror, was a blond woman in a tight-fitting, feminine Batman costume. Turning around, Bat(man? woman?) saw a large man in a catsuit staggering up. The man stopped halfway up when he saw Batwoman standing there. He started to laugh, and then stopped as he heard himself.

"What the . . . what's going on here?"

"I could ask you the same question, but I'm sure that you don't know. All I do know is that Ragdoll does know, and to get answers, we need to find him."

"So, an excuse to beat answers out of Toy-boy? I'm in."

"Not so simple. That was an incantation he used. Ragdoll doesn't strike me as the magic type, so we need to find a mystic."

"You have got to be kidding me. Magic? Do you know how lame that sounds?"

"You remember the museum heist a few weeks ago? Magic. It's real, and it's here in Gotham. And I know a guy that can help with this."

"He can fix me? Make me my adorable self again?"

"Doubtful. But he can give us some help on who to look for."

"Fine. Let's go find this guy, then, and get this over with. And for the record, I'm far from willing to help."

Rory Regan shut the door of his junk shop, locking it after a late night. Most of his nights were late, these days. He thought back to the day when he stopped sleeping properly. He soon remembered. Back when he'd tried his hand at vigilantism, he and Batman had taken on a guy named Mandrake. Mandrake, a Mafioso who also happened to be an accomplished sorcerer, had been the first super-villain that either of them had fought, and was the last for Rory, then the Ragman. Mandrake and his necromancer sidekick had summoned help, big help, from the Underworld, and Rory had made the mistake of looking down when he disposed of said help. He'd been having nightmares for the past three years about what he'd seen. As he considered trying some sleeping pills, Rory came across what he thought were thieves breaking in for what little cash he'd made that day. Then, he got a better look, and laughed despite himself. Standing in front of him were a man in a black suit that suggested feline features, and a woman in a Batman costume. Still chuckling, he waved towards the door.

"Sorry, folks, but Halloween isn't for a few more months, and we're closed, so you might want to go. Buh-bye, now."

"Arrogant little-"

"Calm down, Catman. Rory, I – _we_ need your help."

Her tone told him almost everything, most of all that this was no woman, for no woman could inject that tone into her voice. In fact, only one person could, and that person was . . .

"Batman. What happened to you? And who the heck is this guy with you? I thought you were a solo act."

"Desperate times, Rory. Now, are you going to help, or not?"

"Sure, why not. It's not like I have anything better to do at this hour. Like sleep, or something stupid like that."

"You haven't been able to sleep since we went up against Mandrake. Now, about that help . . ."

"Fine. What are you looking for, anyway? It helps if I have a specific question when I jack into the Ethernet, don't you know."

"Look for mystics loose in Gotham, preferably those with criminal or tyrannical backgrounds."

"Well, that should help. Lesseehere, we got Mandrake in Blackgate, but that's not who you want, he's not been free in years. There's that mummy from a few weeks back, Tut-something-or-other, but he's still not got a body. That was messy and stupid, by the way, relying on something like Neron to finish him off. There's a mom and daughter combo on the Hill, but they're nice folks, wouldn't hurt anyone. Waitaminute, I got one. He's some sort of monk fellow, and he's a _happy_ sonufagun, to be sure. Know any mad monks, Bats?"

But, as he turned to get a glimpse of Batwoman's face, he saw that there was no one there; both the Bat and the cat-dude had vanished. Shaking his head, Rory went upstairs to his apartment. He needed to get out of Gotham, and fast.

"Wait, Spellbinder? _That's_ his name? I mean, come on, it's so cheesy, like-"

"Like Catwoman?"

"Shut up and drive."

Both Batwoman and Catman were in the Batmobile, rocketing through the streets, trying to figure out how to best find Ragdoll and Spellbinder. So far, they had come up with nothing. Neither of them had managed to get a tracer on Ragdoll, and there was no equipment in the Batmobile to track mystical energy. They were about to give up when Catman snapped his fingers.

"Calculator!"

"Who?"

"Calculator. He's this oddsmaker for most casinos, and he can find anything on that computer of his. I've used him a few times."

"Great. Care explaining how we're going to get to him? I can only assume that you didn't go to him in costume."

"Well, I do have an idea . . ."

"I'm not doing this."

"It's a little late for that."

"I feel stupid."

"But you look great. Just trust me, he's not going to suspect as long as you just act natural."

"I'm wearing a dress. That's not natural."

"At the moment, it kind of is, so just _deal with it!_"

Batwoman grimaced, although she managed to hide it by burying her head into Catman's arm. The two of them had separated for a short amount of time, going to their respective clothing stashes for something appropriate to wear; they had to appear to be a couple of means, in order to get into Calculator's "lair". Catman was now dressed in a tailored tuxedo; Batwoman had thought that he would be to her former specifications, and he was correct. Batwoman, on the other hand, was wearing a very small red dress, something to which she protested vigorously. However, the only other option was to let Catman go in alone, and that was no option at all; Batwoman wanted to come back for Calculator later, and this was an excellent excuse to get a look at his security.

The Iceberg Lounge was not the place that Batwoman would have thought housed an amoral information broker, but that was where she and Catman ended up. Once inside, Catman muttered something to a member of the staff, who left in the general direction of the kitchen. When he came back, he muttered something back to Catman, who stood, gesturing towards Batwoman. She stood, and the two of them followed the staff member. He opened a door, which the two of them went through.

It was immediately apparent that this room was not for the general public. The walls were lined with computer monitors and television screens, all of which were on. In the center of the media overload was a thin man hunched in a chair, glasses sliding almost the entire way down his nose. He turned towards the duo as they approached him.

"Mr. . . . Blake, was it? What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a few good men, if you know what I mean. I need a job done, and would much appreciate some local boys, preferably outside the norm."

"Outside the norm, you say? Well, there's not too many that like using a broker, but I'm sure I can find you something. Say, how about this guy, just met him, can copy himself, you know, make clones in a heartbeat, calls himself Multiplex. He's cheap, too, so in case you need someone else to go along with-"

"Actually, this is more of a stealth job. I need a guy that can get into anywhere."

"Get into anywhere, you say? Well, there is a guy, but I don't broker for him. I can find him, though, if you like. How about you give me a number, and I'll get in touch with you when I find him?"

"How about you find him now?"

"That, my large friend, is going to cost you. Say, to the tune of one thousand?"

Catman grumbled, and then reached into a pocket in his pants; Batwoman had brought a large sum of cash in case Calculator got greedy. Soon enough, the money was counted, and Calculator was at work, trying to find specific information in the web of knowledge he had surrounded himself with. Soon enough, he found something.

"I'm sorry, but it seems Mister 'Ragdoll' is already employed by someone. Doesn't say who, though I'm sure I could find out for a bit more money."

"How about a favor? Don't you collect those, or something?"

"Collect? Hardly, but I do cash them in sometimes. Leave me some contact information, and I'll send you his employer and his location. But remember, you owe me for this."

Once they had left the Iceberg Lounge, Batwoman insisted that they get back to their changing spot, in order to get back into costume. Catman was more than eager to agree, and soon, they were busy getting dressed.

"So, Thomas Blake, huh? Where'd you come up with that one?"

"He's a guy I used to know. Stuffy, arrogant, insufferable snob, too. He won't know anything about this. Hopefully."

"Anyway. You really think that Calculator can find Spellbinder and Ragdoll?"

"If he can't, then we're sunk, so you'd better hope that he can."

As Catman finished this sentence, a phone he had brought with him buzzed. He answered it.

"Blake. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Hmm. Thanks."

He hung up. Batwoman looked at him expectantly.

"He found them?"

"Yes, he did. They're holed up on the Hill, somewhere. That was all the closer he could get."

"Well, then, let's find them, and get ourselves back to normal."

"Agreed."

Ragdoll was sitting on one of the two chairs in the apartment, arms and legs slung in every conceivable direction, including several directions in which man was not meant to go. His compatriot in this endeavor, some three-eyed hypnotist Ragdoll hadn't heard of before their chance meeting a week ago, was studying the dead thing which had been brought him. Ragdoll supposed there was some mystical importance to this dead thing, but he didn't really care; so long as he got the riches he'd been promised, he didn't really care what happened to Three-Eyes, or the dead thing, or Batman and Catwoman, whatever state they were in now. He chuckled when he thought of those two. Seeing their bodies morph like that had been priceless, and well worth the wait to see the final result. He would have paid to see it done, but getting a free show was even better. Turning his head halfway around his neck, he noticed that Three-Eyes was now hovering above his seat, muttering to himself. There was something else about the scene that seemed odd, but he didn't get it at first. In fact, he didn't quite understand, at first, why the window suddenly exploded the way it did. At least, he didn't understand until the two figures burst through the window. Even then, something surreal stopped him from getting up; he wasn't used to seeing the duo yet, so his brain didn't quite register Batwoman and Catman for a few seconds. When it caught up to the rest of him, he snapped himself back into a somewhat more normal configuration.

"Kitten's gotten big, hasn't sh . . . wait, what do I call you now? Are you man, woman, or she-male?"

Catman lashed out with a massive whip, obliterating part of the wall behind Ragdoll, who had twisted his spine almost 360 degrees to dodge. Whipping back into shape, he gave Catman a cocky grin. This was one of those rare fights that he actually wanted a part of, and he wanted that part bad.

"Hey, buddy. I got the cat guy. Think you can handle the chick?"

Batwoman had one objective, and that was the mummified cat in Spellbinder's hands. That was the cause of this entire messy night, and that was probably the key to fixing herself. And Catman, he supposed. Diving towards Spellbinder, she found herself falling into oblivion. This was a simple trick, and one that she probably should have been suspecting. Concentrating, she pictured the apartment she had been in not a few moments ago, and then found herself sprawled on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. Spellbinder was nowhere to be seen. Was this another trick, or was he really gone? It didn't matter; she had to get the mummy from him, and fast.

Catman swung with all of his now-considerable might at Ragdoll, punching a hole in the wall when the contortionist twisted his body out of the way. It was hard, duking it out with brawn instead of grace, and nothing he could do was helping. Just then, Ragdoll kicked him in the chin with one of those impossibly high kicks he could pull off. Catman went sprawling, bumping into the three-eyed guy that he had assumed was Spellbinder. Spellbinder dropped to the ground, and the mummified cat fell out of his hands. Catman dove onto it, rolling back towards the apartment. Batwoman met him in the hallway.

"Do you remember how to get this thing to work?"

"I think so. On three. One, two, three!"

Batwoman screamed something in a language that sounded, to Catman, like she'd been gargling with razor blades. There was a flash of light. When it cleared, Batman and Catwoman stood there, restored. Ragdoll and Spellbinder both drooped visibly. Their foes were no longer disoriented, back in bodies they were familiar with. Ragdoll turned to jump out the window; he was acrobatic enough to land without hurting himself, and right now, getting away was looking to be a good plan. As he leapt, something wrapped around each of his legs, pulling him to the floor. One leg was snared by Batman's grapple, the other with Catwoman's whip. He hung his head. Getting away was looking like less of a possibility by the second.

Batman and Catwoman watched as the police shoved Ragdoll and Spellbinder into their van. Batman was still holding onto the mummy, planning on giving it back to the proper owner, along with a talk on upgrading his security. Catwoman, on the other hand, was pouting. All that, and she was going to go home empty-handed. Unless . . .

"Don't even think about it."

Catwoman was shocked to hear Batman's voice. Had he read her mind? It wouldn't be the first time she'd thought that he could do that, and it probably wouldn't be the last. However, his statement made it very clear that he would tolerate no nonsense involving the mummy. Turning, she slunk away. Maybe she'd get lucky tomorrow night.

**Villain Bio:** Catman(_first appearance – Detective Comics #311_)

Created when Ragdoll and Spellbinder switched Catwoman and Batman's genders, Catman wanted nothing more than to restore his body to its former, female self. With the aid of Batwoman, he managed to do so, and it seems unlikely that Catman will ever return.

**Hero Bio:** Batwoman(_first appearance – Detective Comics #233_)

Created when Ragdoll and Spellbinder switched Batman and Catwoman's genders, Batwoman chose to aid Catman in his quest to restore their bodies to normal. This was accomplished, and it seems unlikely that Batwoman will ever return.


	5. Cured

Legal disclaimer: I do not own Batman, although I dearly wish I did, because then there would have been no _Batman Forever_ and _Batman and Robin_. I also do not own any characters contained therein, no matter what their introduction into the mythos of the Dark Knight is. I do, however, own the few characters that I have managed to actually come up with myself. If you want to use a particular character, ask me if I own them; odds are I won't, but there's always that slim chance.

Notes about this fanfic: This fanfic of _The Batman_ starts after the episode "The Laughing Cats" and continues from after that, ignoring the actual series. This isn't because I don't like those episodes, but I haven't seen them, and would feel uncomfortable referencing them without actual knowledge. I will introduce a lot of characters in this, mostly creations of Bob Kane, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, or any of the others that have worked on Batman since his inception. I will also bring back several characters from the series that have been MIA for a while. Hope everyone enjoys.

Bruce Wayne

1939-2009

The One True Dark Knight

Poison Ivy walked calmly into the botanical garden, although she was seething on the inside. She was surrounded by thousands of her brothers and sisters, all of whom had been locked up for people's amusement. It made her sick. Actually, now that she thought about it, lots of things were making her sick these days. She didn't think that her new body _could_ get sick, but it was definitely worth thinking about. After she did this, though.

"All right, everyone. Up and at 'em. Mommy's here to set you free."

"Still going with the 'Mother Nature' act, Isley?"

Poison Ivy whipped her head around. Nothing but shadows. But that voice, that deep, spine-chilling voice, it could only belong to one man. The Batman. It had to be him. Him and that snot-nosed little brat Batgirl. Batgirl, who had frozen her solid. Batgirl, who had saved the Commissioner from one of her babies. Batgirl, who very much deserved to die, at least in Poison Ivy's opinion. But that was a matter for a time when she was better prepared to defeat her and Batman. For now, all she could do was run. But before she could get more than a few steps, she bumped into something hard.

"Boo."

It was him. Batman. He seemed almost inhuman, a bedtime story monster made flesh. Terrified, she turned and bolted, not knowing or caring where she went, as long as it was away from _him_. She'd almost made it to one of the walls, the walls made of leaves that she could easily pass through, when something wrapped itself around her legs, tripping her up. She crashed headlong into the shed sitting next to the wall, the one she hadn't noticed before. As she landed, she noticed that the shed was full of chemical containers. And before she smashed one of them open by landing on it, she noticed the label, the one that said, in black letters, WEED KILLER.

**The Batman**

Cured

Bruce Wayne often brooded while he was in costume. His favorite topic, or at least, the one on which he brooded the most, was the death of his parents. Tonight, however, he was brooding on the fact that he may have caused the death of Poison Ivy. He certainly hadn't meant for her to crash into a container of weed killer, and certainly hadn't meant for it to split open. But, he had, and it had. And now, Poison Ivy was dying. He'd sworn, back when he started this, back before the supervillains, that he wouldn't kill, wouldn't bring himself down to that level. Sure, he'd killed Dracula, but Dracula was unstoppable by any other methods. Poison Ivy was human, in a manner of speaking. No, not in a manner of speaking. She was _human_, just as much as he was. There had to be some way to save her, some way to get the poisons out of her, before it was too late . . .

"Sir?"

Alfred was standing on the stairs, watching Bruce think. In truth, it disturbed him slightly, seeing him like this, motionless. One could almost see the wheels turning in his dark little head, spinning their dark little webs. _This is not how Master Bruce should be spending his time_, Alfred thought. _He should be . . . _Alfred could not think of anything better that Bruce could be doing. His quest for justice, justice that could never truly be meted out, had consumed him for so long, it only seemed natural that he continue to fight, to struggle against the darkness that consumes men's souls. But not always. There had to be some balance, something to keep the darkness that he was fighting from consuming him in the process. _A truly Dark Knight indeed_.

"Sir, a message from Mr. Fox. He says that he has acquired something that might interest you. A prototype of-"

"That's it!"

Alfred had expected some reaction from Bruce, but not this dynamic of one. Bruce was stripping out of his costume, heading for the elevator. Alfred had to run to catch him, and even then, it was barely.

"Sir, if I may ask . . . ?"

"Lucius would know if we had any, say, defoliant projects that didn't fall through, for whatever reason." 

"Defoliant, sir?"

"I have Mark Desmond working on the anti-mutagen serum, the stuff for Ethan. If I can get him to somehow combine the defoliant with the serum . . . that might be the answer!"

"Answer to _what_, sir?"

"I may not have crossed the line after all, Alfred."

And with that, Bruce Wayne left his befuddled butler in the elevator, off to grab a quick shower and a change. Lucius was waiting, after all.

Lucius Fox was checking his watch when Bruce arrived down in "the Pit". The Pit was the name that Wayne Industries employees had assigned to the storage facilities for all prototypes and designs that weren't, for whatever reason, made available to the public. Bruce had thoroughly plundered the Pit almost five years ago, when he began his career as Batman. From the Pit had come parts for the Batmobile, most of his weapons, and the technology that powered the Batwave. Lucius Fox was master of the Pit. He knew everything within the bowels of the building, who designed it, and whatever reason the items had failed to be presentable.

"Bruce, good to see you. Now, this is something I think you'll like."

As he spoke, he opened a box. Within was a bolt of black fabric. Bruce picked up a corner of it, and then let it drop back in the box.

"Black cloth? It's not Halloween, Lucius."

"This is no ordinary cloth, Bruce. It was designed for the military, intelligence work. This stuff makes you untraceable on infrared, ultraviolet, anything. It even masks the sound of your footsteps. You're the perfect spy with this."

"Why so little of it?"

"This is all the project could spit out with its multi-million dollar budget. Frankly, neither we nor the military could afford it."

"I see. And now, what would I want this cloth for, exactly?"

"It's not for you. It's for your friend. I know you've been supplying the Batman."

Bruce was stunned for a moment. Then, he realized what Lucius had said. Lucius thought he was _supplying_ Batman? It made sense, in a way. Most of the excuses he'd used to appropriate the gear from the Pit had been half-baked, and he'd probably re-used one or two of them a couple of times. Best to let this rumor stick around, though. It let him get more equipment without having to lie. Sort of.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Only me. I have to say, Bruce, if I'd known who he was, I'd have probably done the same."

"Great, Lucius. I'll take it. Now tell me, what do you know about defoliants?"

It took about two hours for Mark Desmond to find a way to combine the defoliant and the prototype anti-mutagen serum. When it was complete, Bruce rushed over to the hospital where Poison Ivy was being kept. Before he went in, he took a moment to calm himself, put on a mask of indifference. _You're not here for anything more than a chance to look good in the papers_, he told himself. When he felt confident that his act would pass, he got out of his vehicle.

It was hard, acting like he didn't know where Poison Ivy was being kept. He knew, of course, because he had followed the ambulance containing her all the way from the botanical gardens last night, hoping against hope that the throwing up had been faked, that she was just trying to get him away so she could make good her escape. She hadn't been faking, that had been certain. When he asked the nurse at the front desk, she was surprised, but soon told him to follow the police officers. Bruce pretended to be surprised by the large number of police officers in the building. It looked like half the precinct, including Chief Rojas, whom Bruce was certain was there only to watch Ivy die. She would not be missed by him.

When he reached the room, he almost knocked, until a hand grabbed his arm. It was Commissioner Gordon. Bruce pretended to not know who Gordon was, despite the fact that he met the man almost every night. Idly, he wondered if Gordon would have stopped him if he'd shown up in full Bat-regalia. _Nah. Rojas would have killed me by then_.

"Bruce Wayne. What brings you here?"

The question was simple, but implied several things, including the fact that Gordon did not intend for him to go through the door. Bruce put on his most disarming smile, and decided to give his natural charisma a try. It normally worked.

"I heard about who you have in here. Thought I could help."

"And where did you hear about this?"

Then he remembered: his charisma relied on it being dark. And him being suited up. And the other guy being pants-wetting scared of him. He sighed inwardly. Time to lie.

"I . . . have a source."

"I see."

Bruce felt sorry for the GCPD, which was certainly going to be turned upside-down to find this "source". Someone was going to be blamed, and probably suspended, if not fired. But Bruce had to get his serum in to Poison Ivy. He had to know if he had crossed the line or not.

"Listen . . . you remember how I said I'd try to find a way to restore Ethan Bennett, right? Well, I had one of my guys add a few things to what we have right now, and I think it could reverse Isley's mutation."

"And you, Bruce Wayne, become the man who saved the city from the evil Poison Ivy. Is that right?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"And all those research dollars you have tied up in genetically engineering new vegetables, that never crossed your mind, saving all those, along with the rest of your company?"

It hadn't.

"Just between you and me . . . yeah, a little. You know what she did to Chlorogene."

"I'll let you try this out on one condition. Your name doesn't come out. You stay anonymous."

Perfect.

"What!? You can't do that!"

"I can, and I will. You get no press out of this, or she dies."

"Fine. I'll stay anonymous. But remember, no good deed goes unpunished."

"Just hand it over and get out of here, Wayne."

Bruce handed over the anti-mutagen, and then turned around to leave. He'd be back to see if it worked later.

Bruce turned on the news later just in time to catch Vicky Vale's story. According to sources inside the hospital, an unknown benefactor had generously donated a sample of an anti-mutagen serum to the hospital. The serum had worked, and the scourge of Poison Ivy was history. As Vicky elaborated on Ivy's past for those ignorant of the story, footage of Pamela Isley and her mother played on the screen.

Bruce turned off the TV. He'd done it. Firstly, he had removed one of the many threats to Gotham City, and done it without having to kill her. Secondly, he had proven that an anti-mutagen serum was possible; now he just had to find a way to make it work for Ethan. All in all, a good day's work. Now, it was time to translate that into a good night's work. Getting up, he headed for the Batcave.

Barbara Gordon was tired. All night staking out a warehouse where Batman had insisted an arms deal was going to go down, and all she'd gotten out of it was a sleepless night. Clamping her jaws shut to hide a yawn, she pulled a book out of her locker and closed it, only to find a very familiar face staring back at her.

"Hey Red."

"Pam? How . . . what . . . why are you here? I thought you-"

"Yeah. I did. And someone cared enough to fix me again."

"What's it like? You know, having superpowers, and all that."

"The superpowers weren't all that bad, actually. It's just, well . . . promise you won't laugh?"

"Promise."

"It's the Batman. Most people think he's just some kind of boogeyman, but I've seen him. He scared me then, and he'll probably scare me until I die."

"You've seen Batman? I mean, I knew he was real, my dad works all sorts of cases with him, but still . . . I wish I could get to see him."

"No, you don't. You really don't. Hey, look, get to class, and maybe we'll hang out at lunch, 'kay?"

"Spike strips aren't gonna work, you know."

"Yes, they are. Trust me on this."

"Trust you? Recall that we're talking about a guy that's broken the land speed barrier in a junker. He's probably got indestructible tires or something like that."

"No one's that prepared."

"No one, huh? So you're saying that there are things that could trip up even you?"

It was two nights later, and Gearhead was loose in the city. Batman was giving chase in the Batmobile, while Batgirl had the chore of laying spike strips and hoping against hope that Gearhead was not a great planner. While she waited, she decided to bring up the topic of Pamela Isley.

"You know, you scare the bejeezus out of her."

"That comes with the territory."

"Yeah, but she says she kept having nightmares about you. Probably still does, too."

"Not my fault. She chose to lead a life of crime, and I had to stop her."

"But did you have to scare her like that?"

"Yes. Yes, I did. Without fear, I'm just a man in a costume. With fear, I rule this city."

"OK, creepy much? Anyway, she's trying to get on with a normal life, you know, forget she was a nature goddess and all, so – here he comes!"

Batgirl watched as Gearhead, in a nano-modified car, shot over the spike strips she had put down, only to continue on without any harm done to his car. Resisting the urge to shout "I told you so" into her Batwave, Batgirl released her grapple from the building, plunging down towards the street. Firing it again, she swung around the corner of the building, trying to catch up with Gearhead before he got someone hurt.

Antonio Rodriguez stood in line at the grocery store, trying to ignore the woman in front of him yammering away with the cashier. It was tough, not muscling his way in front of her. He was a big man, and somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham. He had leveled buildings with little to no effort, and had it not been for one annoying vigilante, he would be doing more of the same. But losing a fight with the Batman had meant a bit of early retirement for Temblor. Now, he was trying to make ends meet as a construction worker, although that was _nowhere_ near as fun.

As the gabby woman moved out of line with groceries securely in her cart, Antonio stepped forward. As he did, his arm caught the gallon of milk on the conveyor belt, causing it to fall and burst open. The cashier looked apologetic, as though it were somehow her fault that the milk fell. She shouted at one of the baggers to clean the spill up. The bagger came over, and for a second, her eyes met Antonio's, and he realized that he'd seen her before. This girl was the one that had hired him, and consequently short-changed him for his services. He remembered the name, if only because he'd heard it on the news a few days ago: Pamela Isley. _Perhaps,_ he thought, _it is time for Temblor to come out of retirement_.

Pamela threw herself onto her bed, exhausted. Her mom had forced her to get a job, saying it was to build character, and it was her rotten luck that the only place that didn't care about the fact that she was an ex-supervillain was Quicky Mart. She hated being a bagger, but she hadn't had much choice in the matter. It was either that, or her mom was going to send her to military school. At the time, she'd thought that a job would be easier. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Pam, honey? Phone for you!"

"Who is it?"

"Some guy, he says he knows you. He also says it's urgent, so you should probably pick it up."

Pamela groaned as she reached for the phone. This was probably someone pulling a prank on her. Of course, there _was_ the slim chance that it was someone from the news; several major networks had tried to get an interview with her after she had been de-mutated. Her mom had absolutely refused to let her speak to any of them, but she might consent if Pam presented it properly.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Oh, I think you know."

Another scary voice, though not as scary as Batman's. This one belonged to Temblor, the super-mercenary Pam had hired to tear down companies who polluted the environment. In fact, if he hadn't been trying to hurt her for stiffing him, she wouldn't have become Poison Ivy. And now he was calling her. No matter the reason for his call, it probably wasn't good for her.

"What . . . what are you doing? Why are you calling me?"

"You know why. You _owe_ me. You owe me a lot, and I intend to collect."

"I don't have your money. I didn't have it the first time, and I-"

"Exactly. You didn't have it the first time. I'm still waiting for it, but I'm not a patient man. What do you say I give you a week? That seems generous enough. One week to collect the sum, or I come after you and your family."

Temblor hung up before Pamela could try to argue with him. Dropping the phone, she curled up in a ball on her bed. The world was suddenly a much scarier place.

Six days passed. For most people, this was nothing. They kept living their normal lives, dealing with normal problems, that sort of thing. Not so for Pamela Isley. She spent those days in a constant state of panic, worrying about how, precisely, she was going to get enough money to get Temblor off her back. Work wasn't going to help; she only made minimum wage, and she'd never earn enough that way. There was the option of robbing a few convenience stores, or a bank. Problem was, she didn't have any superpowers anymore.

All thoughts of raising money went out of her head when she turned the corner onto her street. Her apartment building was gone, just _gone_. In its place was a heap of rubble and twisted metal, roped off by yellow tape while the police investigated. She rushed over, pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered, despite Gotham PD's best efforts to disperse them. Partway through the crowd, she bumped into a large man. A _familiar_ large man.

"Hey, kid. Shame, what happened to this building. Old place must not've been up to code."

Pamela backed up. Temblor was _here_, like a serial arsonist coming back to look at the wreckage he'd caused. He was sending her a message. No matter what she did, whether or not she paid the money back, he was going to ruin her. She ran. She didn't know where she was going to go, but she knew one thing. She was going to get as far away from Gotham as possible.

"She ran away?"

"Apparently. Witnesses said some guy started talking to her, and then she bolted."

"Anything strike you as odd about the building collapse?"

Yin threw some pictures on the desk. Batman leaned forward, staring avidly at them. Yin pointed at a few of them to illustrate her point.

"All this damage to the roads, it looks like a major earthquake tore through the street. But Isley's building was the only one damaged. It's like the earthquake focused solely on that building, and ignored the others."

"It may have. I have a suspicion as to who, but I don't know why. Not yet, anyway. Call me if you find anything else."

At these words, Batman jumped out of the window, firing his grapple gun as he dropped, swinging off into the night. It was time to check in on Temblor.

Pamela staggered down the alleyway, trying to put as much distance between herself and Gotham City as possible. She figured Temblor wouldn't follow her if she just disappeared. Why would he? Was he so desperate for cash that he'd hunt her down? Or was this just revenge? It didn't matter; she had to get out, and she had to do it _now_.

She was so lost in her head that she stopped watching the streets, and consequently bumped into someone. She was about to mutter an apology when she got a good luck at the guy. He was tall and wiry, but that wasn't what caused her confusion. He (she somehow instinctively knew that this person was a man) was dressed in rough brown pants, and a sleeveless shirt that was the same color. He wore a mask that covered his entire head, with an undershirt that was the same tan color as the mask. He had on dark brown gloves and a pointed hat whose point had dipped to his shoulder. Bits of straw emerged from his sleeves, and the point where the mask met his shirt. He looked like a childhood boogieman come to horrid life.

"Wh-who are you?"

"I am a friend, dear child. A friend of those wronged by the Batman. And you have been greatly wronged. Brought down from the heights of power, made to be mortal once more. I can fix that."

He produced a small vial, which he handed to Pamela. Inside was a pink liquid, though only enough to fill the vial halfway. She looked up at the strange creature in front of her.

"What's this?"

"This is your ticket back to power. Use it wisely."

And with that, he walked away, leaving Pamela and the vial behind him.

_____________________________________________________________

Batman was almost back to the Batcave when the call came over the Batwave. Mutant plants had destroyed an apartment building in the Hill District. There were no casualties, but the building was rubble. Batman shook his head. Somehow, for whatever reason, Pamela Isley had become Poison Ivy again. He should have seen this coming. Gritting his teeth, he turned the Batmobile around. _This is going to end badly_.

Temblor was mad. He'd spent the entire night searching the city for Isley, and not only had he not found her, but now the news was saying that she had gotten her powers back. The strike at his apartment, he could almost understand; he had destroyed her home, and now she had done the same to him. Problem was, she still owed him, big-time. He finished his coffee and went out to his truck. Hidden behind the seat was the pair of gauntlets he used to generate his earthquakes. Slipping them on, he pressed them to the ground, and then released a burst of kinetic energy, launching himself both far and high. He had a feeling that Ivy would try to bait him out. He would just have to find her.

_____________________________________________________________

Batman was racing on the rooftops now. Ivy had generated a skyscraper-sized plant, and the roots had torn up the streets for five city blocks. Some of the buildings in that radius looked like they were about to come down. People were rushing out of the area as quickly as they could, dodging writhing roots like pythons. This had to stop before anyone else got hurt. Pulling out his grappling gun, he fired at the plant. It caught, and he hit the retraction button, and was pulled up into the air.

He ended up about twenty feet short of the top, which was where Ivy must be. Fortunately, there were plenty of handholds on the titanic plant, which made climbing that much easier. When he got to the top, he found Ivy sitting on what looked like a small tree that had grown into the shape of a chair. Near her was Temblor, although Batman realized almost immediately that he was not under his own control; his eyes had taken on a pinkish color that he associated with Poison Ivy's mind-control spores.

"The Batman. I thought you'd show up. Fortunately, I have this big lug to take care of you."

She snapped her fingers, and Temblor came rushing in at Batman. Batman leapt over him, using his grappling line to shoot himself across the battleground. He turned around, only to find Temblor had turned around and was rushing him. Batman tried to jump, but found his feet entangled by vines. Before he could try and get out, Temblor slapped him across the chest; the kinetic energy generated by his gauntlets blew Batman across the top of the plant.

Rolling towards the edge, he managed to grab on before he fell. Hanging by his fingertips, he pulled out his grappling line, shooting it into the roof of Ivy's domain on top of the plant. He used that to pull himself back up right before Temblor generated a quake to try and knock him off. He had to do something about Temblor. Ivy would be a lot easier to beat if she didn't have her mind-controlled muscle backing her up. He pulled a device out of his utility belt. When Temblor came charging in again, he held it up and sprayed from it a blast of compressed air. The pink glow faded from Temblor's eyes, and he shook his head to clear it. While he was distracted, Batman made a rush for Poison Ivy. Before he could get to her, vines shot up from the "ground" and wrapped around him, entangling him completely. With Batman incapacitated, Ivy felt the need to talk.

"You can't stop nature. Every time you people try to destroy it, it keeps coming back, stronger than it was before. It's like a disease, one that could overtake the entire world if it wanted to. And I'm the frontrunner, a hybrid being just waiting for more like me to realize their destiny!"

"You're deluded. Whatever you used to turn yourself back into this monster is affecting your mind. There is help available, if you-"

Poison Ivy backhanded Batman across the face. She looked a little shocked at first, but then grinned wickedly.

"You're not some nightmare. You're just a man. A poor man dressed up like it was Halloween. Well, let's get a good look under that mask of yours."

Batman tried to struggle out of the vines before Ivy got to his head, but they were too tight. She reached out to lift his mask . . . and was blown sideways. Batman looked to his right and saw Temblor blowing over his left gauntlet like it was a smoking gun. The vines slackened, and Batman slid out of them, walking over to check Ivy. She was unconscious, but still breathing. He picked her up, and then turned to Temblor.

"You've got five minutes. Don't waste them."

With that, Batman used his grappling gun to lower himself to the ground, where he would hand Poison Ivy over to the police. As he descended, he saw a figure that could only be Temblor shoot off of the now-diminishing plant. Now that he thought of it, Temblor had actually saved his life, as well as those of all of Gotham's residents. _All right. Ten minutes._


	6. Monster

Legal disclaimer: I do not own Batman, although I dearly wish I did, because then there would have been no _Batman Forever_ and _Batman and Robin_. I also do not own any characters contained therein, no matter what their introduction into the mythos of the Dark Knight is. I do, however, own the few characters that I have managed to actually come up with myself. If you want to use a particular character, ask me if I own them; odds are I won't, but there's always that slim chance.

Notes about this fanfic: This fanfic of _The Batman_ starts after the episode "The Laughing Cats" and continues from after that, ignoring the actual series. This isn't because I don't like those episodes, but I haven't seen them, and would feel uncomfortable referencing them without actual knowledge. I will introduce a lot of characters in this, mostly creations of Bob Kane, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, or any of the others that have worked on Batman since his inception. I will also bring back several characters from the series that have been MIA for a while. Hope everyone enjoys.

Note about this chapter: I'm sorry if this seems a little dark, but I needed someone to take out Strange, and it got a little . . . heavy. I figure it was better than having someone from the Batman mythos do the deed.

_Two months ago:_

It was cold. Very cold. He hadn't had anything to eat in a week, and there were no more bullets to kill anything worth eating. His guide was dead, succumbing to the cold the night before. The man licked his lips. The voices in his head were back. They whispered strange things to him, dared him to do things he considered abominable. He wouldn't. He _couldn't_. Or could he? He wasn't in his right mind, couldn't control himself. Primal urges fought with intellect, reason with unyielding survival. Pulling out his knife, he plunged it through the skin. There was no other way for him to do it. His last thought before the plunge was simply, _maybe the voices will stop_. And then the thoughts were washed away on a red river, drowned out by the rush of vital fluid.

**The Batman**

Monster

"So, what's the plan?"

Even after Gordon's acceptance, Detective Yin was amazed that she could easily trust the Batman. She'd been one of the many that had thought him a vigilante, a menace to the common good. After what had happened with Eth – with _Clayface_ – she had seen the need for someone that could drift through the line that divides good and evil. The city needed Batman; they just hadn't known it until recently.

"Firefly and Bane aren't pushovers, but they can be beaten. I'll take Firefly. I've sent something for you that could help with Bane. It helped me, at any rate."

"It's not that armor suit, is it? Because if it is, I have no idea how to operate it."

"It mimics your movements perfectly. Just don't let him get a hold on you, or he'll break it."

"I don't see how that help-"

An unearthly howl split the sky. Yin raised the binoculars she'd been using to scout out Gortenson's operation. Something had introduced itself to the situation. A thin white form had landed in the middle of the group, throwing itself into Bane. Yin expected it to bounce off, and was surprised to see Bane bend over at the waist where the thing had hit him. It threw itself into one of the non-costumed protection and-

"Damn it, get in there! Something's eating the guards!"

A squad of Gotham's finest poured in, weapons drawn and leveled at everyone in the area. The white figure raised its head to the sky and howled, the same mind-shattering noise that had alerted her to the area in the first place. Before anyone could get a bead on it, the creature vaulted the line of officers, rushing through the maze of containers scattered throughout the shipyard.

"We can't track that thing. You've got to-"

"Got it. Batman, out."

The click meant that he had disconnected his communicator. Yin shook her head. Whatever that creature was, she was glad she didn't have to take it on. At that moment, she knew more than ever that Gotham needed Batman. With monsters like that running around, they needed him more than they knew.

He'd abandoned the Batmobile, and was chasing the creature on foot. Whatever this thing was, it was fast, in addition to the incredible strength he'd seen it demonstrate. It wasn't anyone he knew; only the Joker had skin that pale, and he didn't have the strength to topple Bane. Whoever it was, it was going to learn a valuable lesson about crime in Gotham.

Batman rounded a corner to find himself staring at the mystery man. He was male, standing a little shorter than Batman. He was gaunt, so much so that Batman could count ribs. He was grinning with red teeth, blood spilling from between his lips. His first thought was that this was a leftover vampire from Dracula's short-lived reign of terror, but immediately dismissed that theory; those granted vampiric abilities by the Impaler had lost those abilities when he died. While he tried to figure out what this man was, his smile dropped into a look of terror; he said one word before collapsing.

"Help."

Batman caught the man before he hit the ground. Someone had to take care of this man, and with his mental status still unknown, there was only one place for him. Arkham.

"Doctor Crane, did you hear? We have an unknown male entering in a few minutes. Supposedly he bit off a piece of some guy's arm before collapsing. They say the Batman's bringing him in."

Jonathon Crane looked up from his notes on his most recent session with Obsidian, a.k.a. Nick Farrell (he despised Doctor Strange's pre-occupation with the costumed members of Gotham's criminal enterprises, and refused to refer to them by their "costume" names), and glared at the intern. He had been preparing to head to one of the chemical labs to test a new design on the tranquilizers used to sedate some of Arkham Asylum's more restless inmates, and did not take kindly to the interruption. The intern squirmed under Crane's stare, while he tried to remember who she was.

"Miss Quinzel, the _last_ thing I need to hear is that the Batman has dumped another super-powered maniac onto our doorstep like an orphaned infant. Were I in charge, the man would be sent to Blackgate immediately to wait for a team to go over and examine him."

"Yeah, but-"

"If I hear one more word about it, you'll spend the rest of your internship here alphabetizing the archives in the sub-basement. And don't think I won't follow through on that. Now, run along and make yourself useful by taking this chart to the floor warden. He'll know what to do with it."

Quinzel meekly took the chart and scurried out of Doctor Crane's office. Crane was halfway out of his seat when Doctor Strange walked through the door.

"Jonathon, I must have a word. It's about our soon-to-arrive patient."

"I'm not doing the evaluation. I'm tired of indulging your fascination with the freakshow the police keep dragging in here. We're not Stryker's Island, and-"

"It's Doctor Stirk, and he's in a very bad way. I was hoping that you would like to see him, seeing as you and he were such close friends during his time here."

The wave of indignation that had washed over Crane disappeared in an instant. Cornelius Stirk had vanished during a hunting trip in Canada two months ago, presumed dead. Strange was right: Crane wanted to see him immediately.

"Cornelius? Cornelius, it's Jonathon, Jonathon Crane. Do you recognize me?"

When he had first seen Cornelius, Crane had been horrified with his appearance. He could make out almost every bone in his old friend's body. His hair had turned white, matching the color of his skin almost perfectly. Although his face had been washed, there was still a slight pinkish tint to his lips and teeth. Crane knelt over Stirk, hoping that he would be able to communicate. As he got closer, he could hear a rasping wheeze. With a start, Crane realized that Stirk was laughing.

"So that's his name. I was wondering when someone was going to tell me. I'd have hated to go through life dodging that question."

Crane recoiled. This was _not_ how he expected Cornelius Stirk, a serious and dour individual by nature, to act. Blinking, he pressed his companion.

"What are you talking about? What happened to you in Canada? Tell me, Cornelius."

"Oh, but that's a boring name. Call me Wendigo. That's what they call me at home. As for your friend, he died so that I could live. Bit flabby at first, but once you start moving in the cold, the pounds just melt off like butter on toast, especially when the hunting gets scarce. Mind, I'm not a picky eater, but rabbits and squirrels just don't satisfy after a while."

While Stirk was talking, a sharp clicking noise had been running through the cell. Looking down, Crane saw that he was tapping hard, narrow fingernails that had taken on the appearance of claws against the floor. Crane looked back up into his old friend's face to see an evil smile gracing his features.

"I know I should get them trimmed, but they're so useful when you need to gut a deer or rip open some poor native. Honestly, you have no idea how hard it is to do that without them."

Crane stood up, horrified with what Stirk was saying. This was not his friend; whatever it had once been, it was now just some sort of monster. Without another word, he left the cell. He would _not_ spend another minute with the creature, no matter what Dr. Strange said. He could do the full evaluation himself if he wanted it done. It was as simple as that.

"Well, Dr. Crane has told me that you are saying some . . . _disturbing_ things. I wish to hear some of them, Dr-"

"Not doctor. Just call me Wendigo. Brings back memories of home every time I hear it."

"Very well. Wendigo, from where do you come? What are your motives? What is your history?"

Dr. Strange sat down in one of the chairs in the interview room, staring at the wasted man across from him. Wendigo fascinated him, even more so than the costumed lunatics usually brought in. If Wendigo was what he said he was, then he was evil incarnate, a very interesting study and an extremely rare find. This might give him the information he needed to further his study of good and evil.

"My history? Oh, it is a long and complicated thing, Dr. Strange. You could say that I have always existed to some extent, although I have only realized true sentience within the last few millennia. I find myself drawn to those who partake, however unwillingly, of human flesh. And once I control them, it is entirely within my nature to continue those appetites until such time as my body is destroyed. Although I don't think that will be happening any time soon with this body. Amazing what you can do to the human body if you try hard enough. I wager I could rip these bonds off with naught but a thought. Care to see it? Oh my," there was a snapping noise, and then another, "I seem to have gotten a little overeager. I hear you wish to study evil, Dr. Strange. But now, it is time that evil studies you."

Strange didn't even have time to scream. Wendigo spat out the chunk he'd torn off. This man was fatty and disgusting. He needed something fresher, something younger. That detective woman that had tried to take him down earlier, she would do nicely. The door was no obstacle. Nor were the two guards standing outside. With them dispatched, he had no problem leaving, simply walking out the front door. _A brand new wilderness, and all mine to hunt in this time. Excellent_.

"What do you mean, escaped? He could barely walk-"

"_I don't know. He just-the guards-Dr. Strange-"_

"Calm down. I can barely understand you. Do you have someone in charge you can put on?"

"_Maybe Doctor-"_

The young woman sounded hysterical, and Yin couldn't blame her. If what she'd stammered out was true, her mystery man had beaten down a doctor and two armed guards before practically walking out of Arkham. She needed verification, and this Quinzel girl could barely string two words together. Yin sat for almost a minute before a voice came over the line.

"_Detective? It's Doctor Crane."_

"Yes doctor, I'm here. What's the situation?"

"_This ma-this _monster_-calls itself Wendigo. He broke the restraints on his chair, knocked out two guards and . . . I don't know how else to say it. He appears to have ripped Strange's throat out with his _teeth_. I always thought it was a bad idea to-"_

"Not the time, Doctor Crane. Do you have any ideas as to where he might be heading?"

"_Not the foggiest, but I have to say that we really don't want him back. Try to put this creature in the ground if you can."_

"I'll see what we can do. Yin, out."

Yin hung up the phone. She had to put out an alert, but before that, she had to tell Batman. He was the only one she could think of that could possibly bring Wendigo down. She reached for the communicator when the lights flickered off. There were shouts of surprise from several officers on the floor. Yin's hand instinctively went for her gun. This was not good. A lightning bolt shot through the sky overhead, and Yin saw the silhouette of the Wendigo in the window. She aimed and fired without thought, but he was gone by the time her bullets would have hit him. His rough chuckle came, not from outside, but the inside of the building.

"So close, but not nearly close enough. Perhaps I'll give you some incentive to catch me. Like this one."

Someone on the floor screamed in agony. That was Juarez, the desk cop right outside her office. Opening a drawer, Yin pulled out a flashlight and a few extra clips of ammo. Holding the flashlight next to the barrel of her gun, she slowly opened her door, covering all possible lanes of attack before stepping out. Juarez was sitting in his chair, ripped open across his stomach. She remembered him bringing his daughter in last week. _Poor kid_. Something creaked on her left, and she almost fired before she saw that it was another cop, one she didn't recognize. He looked terrified, and she couldn't blame him; it was all she could do to keep from crying hysterically herself. The voice sounded again, this time by the elevator.

"Come on, Detective. You can't be too careful with me around. Especially since I have no qualms about killing every officer in this building to draw you out. Maybe the holding cells . . . yes, I'm sure the people locked up in their cages would appreciate my attentions."

"I'm the one you want, so come and get me. No one else has to get hurt-"

"Oh but they do. It's not fun if I don't toy with my prey. See you downstairs."

Yin turned to the elevator and fired blindly, emptying her clip into the doors. She ran over, hastily reloading her weapon, only to find no trace of Wendigo. Wait, was that . . . blood? She dipped a finger in it, bringing it up to her eyes. It was blood, but tarry, like it had been sitting there for a while. She found that the call buttons had been smashed in. _Damn. Have to take the stairs, and by then_ . . . she tried not to think of how much damage Wendigo could do before she got downstairs. _Have to hurry._

Two more bodies were sitting in the stairwell, both sliced open. She decided then and there that Crane was going to get his wish. Wendigo wouldn't see a cell if – _when_ – she caught him. Hopefully she wasn't the only person left in the precinct by the time she caught him. She opened the door on the ground floor to find a gang member crouched against the wall, openly weeping. She shone her light on him and found him coated in blood and what looked like- _Don't think about it. Focus on your target_. She stepped out, shrieking when something landed on her shoulder. She turned and fired three rounds into the person before she caught the badge on his chest.

"Oh God!"

"No God. Just me, little girl. Just so you know, I like my meals terrified. Follow my voice, and it'll all be over soon."

"H-how can I be-believe that?"

"Trust me. I'm a doctor, or so they say. Just a little further, and our game will end. You'll be fr-"

Yin caught the briefest of movements and fired on blind instinct. She heard the impact of bullets in flesh, followed by a soul-splitting howl of pain. She stood up shakily, putting one foot in front of the other like she was on a balance beam, almost unable to keep her footing. Somehow she made it over to Wendigo, who was on his back staring at the holes in his chest. He tried laughing, but ended up coughing out black blood.

"You know it won't end, right? I just have to sink back into Stirk, and they'll ship me off to that joke of an asylum. With my healing powers, I'll be free to continue the game until you die, and probably after that. You'll never escape me, but you won't die, not until you've lost everything."

"You're not going back to the asylum. You're just going back to whatever Hell you came from."

"Heh. Heh-heh-heh. I'll come back. Someone will succumb, and I'll hunt you down, over and over aga-"

Two shots rang out, splattering Wendigo's brain across the floor. Yin sank to the ground, dropping her gun on the floor next to her. She was still sitting there when the lights came on, soaked in blood.

"Yes, I heard all about it. Yes, Crane's in charge now, and he's gotten Wayne to build – yes, some kind of high-security wing. They're naming it after Strange, of all people. Hold on, someone's at the door."

Commissioner James Gordon hung up his phone and turned to the door, which admitted Ellen Yin. She looked horrible, like something in her soul had died during her encounter with Wendigo. It probably had; the officer she'd accidentally shot was still in critical condition, and there was talk about an investigation into the incident. She walked up to his desk and dropped her badge onto it.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't get that laugh out of my head. I keep seeing Juarez gutted in my dreams, asking me why I didn't save him. I don't have an answer for him."

"I under-"

Don't. Don't tell me you understand, because you don't, you _can't_. Wendigo singled me out, tried hunting me down, all because I was in charge at the docks, because, officially, _I_ was the one to bring him in. I can't risk something like this happening again, so, I quit."

Yin turned around, shuffling out of Gordon's office. He waited until she was out of sight and then picked up the phone.

"She quit."

"_I figured. This is my fault. If I hadn't given her that communicator, she wouldn't have become some kind of unofficial liaison-"_

"And you'd still be an outlaw. Do you think-?"

"_I have enough to do training a sidekick, but I'll see what I can do. Try not to associate any particular detective with me from now on. I don't want to paste a target on someone else's head."_

Gordon didn't answer, and didn't need to; Batman had already disconnected, done with the conversation. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. A year's hard work almost completely down the drain, all because of one night. How was he going to make this up?

Okay, I need to explain this a little more. Here goes:

**Wendigo**

Strange needed to disappear, permanently. A lot of the later stories rely on Crane being in charge of Arkham. In the end, I decided that Strange was going to die. The only problem was, I couldn't think of any Bat-villain I wanted to do the deed. Even Charaxes got passed, because I have a story for him in a little bit that requires him to have some shred of his humanity left. In the end, fearmonger and cannibal Cornelius Stirk drew the black marble. Illusion powers didn't really give him the edge I needed, though. This chapter was actually a long time coming, up to the point that I re-watched my "Fear Itself" DVDs. Once I finished "Skin and Bones", the idea of the Wendigo came as a natural fit. It was something vicious enough to _want_ to do the deed, and it sort of became the villain you couldn't bring back for a repeat. Incidentally, he _needed_ to die; eaters are just uncomfortable to do more than one or two stories with, and this one was just too creepy to leave alive. Yes, that does mean Charaxes _will_ die, and soon, but he'll at least get a heroic kind of end. Just so you know, I had to re-write the hunt through the precinct; the first draft actually gave me nightmares, it was that intense. The version you read is extremely toned down.

**Yin**

Yin will be back, but she needed to leave the police force. The original motivation for this was an encounter with Scarecrow but, since I was already going the horror route for this chapter, Wendigo ended up pulling double duty for this one. Yin needed to be broken down so she could be built back up again as a different type of hero. She won't be seen for a while, but rest assured that she will come back.


	7. Fear Factor

Legal disclaimer: I do not own Batman, although I dearly wish I did, because then there would have been no _Batman Forever_ and _Batman and Robin_. I also do not own any characters contained therein, no matter what their introduction into the mythos of the Dark Knight is. I do, however, own the few characters that I have managed to actually come up with myself. If you want to use a particular character, ask me if I own them; odds are I won't, but there's always that slim chance.

Notes about this fanfic: This fanfic of _The Batman_ starts after the episode "The Laughing Cats" and continues from after that, ignoring the actual series. This isn't because I don't like those episodes, but I haven't seen them, and would feel uncomfortable referencing them without actual knowledge. I will introduce a lot of characters in this, mostly creations of Bob Kane, Paul Dini, Bruce Timm, or any of the others that have worked on Batman since his inception. I will also bring back several characters from the series that have been MIA for a while. Hope everyone enjoys.

Zombie was a little nervous. But, wasn't everyone nervous when interviewing for a job? Never mind that the interview was being held in a back alley instead of an office, or that the job was for a costumed villain instead of a business. Interviews always made people nervous, right? So, it wasn't like he was really scared or-

"You're late."

The rough voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Zombie was terrified, afraid that Batman had caught him, Batman with his weapons and his martial arts, but mostly with that terrifying voice, the one that gave you nightmares for the rest of your life. As the terror mounted, a small part of Zombie's brain whispered something to the other parts. _Maybe_, it said, _maybe it's not Batman. Maybe it's this guy I'm supposed to meet._ Something landed in front of him, and that calming voice disappeared as Zombie screamed.

The thing that landed in front of him was taller than he was, and very thin. Its clothes were dark and rough, with bits of straw poking out of several places. Its head was covered by a brown-yellow mask, which was in turn partially covered by a wide-brimmed hat whose point had drooped to its shoulder. It was more than a little creepy, although Zombie couldn't figure out why. It spoke, still in the rough voice that had put Zombie in this state.

"I scare you, don't I? Well go on, answer if you must, but I already know it to be true. It shows so well on your face, on any face, for that matter. And now it is time for you to gain the power of fear."

The man (for Zombie had figured that out watching the costumed man walk) produced a wad of bills and an apparatus consisting of two large tanks similar to the air tanks used by scuba divers, an air filtration mask and a hand-borne aerosol projector. Zombie quickly pocketed the cash and began putting on the device.

"So, what am I supposed to do with this?"

"Use it in your degenerate criminal activities. Spread panic among the masses. Just don't breathe any of the gas, and you'll do fine."

"So . . . you're paying me to steal and riot?"

The costumed man simply turned and walked away. Zombie slid the tanks on his back and put on the mask. Whatever kind of job this was, it sounded like a lot of fun. What was that old saying again? _Do what you love, and you'll love what you do_. Sounded perfect.

**The Batman**

Fear Factor

Bruce hated these social affairs. They kept him from patrolling the streets as Batman, and that left openings for criminals like the Joker or Firefly to ravage the city. Granted, they wouldn't have _nearly_ as much opportunity after his project was unveiled, but up to that point, it irked him. He was on the point of excusing himself from the gathering when a thin, emaciated man approached him.

"Mister Wayne, I cannot say how grateful I am that you have put your company to work on this project. And to complete it so quickly, it's almost unheard of! Gotham owes you a great debt."

"Not a problem, Dr Crane. I consider it my duty to help clean up Gotham's streets in my own little way. Have you begun testing yet?"

"We have, and are ready to begin transferring patients into the new facility immediately. The Hugo Strange High-Security Wing will be a tribute to our dedication in rehabilitating these," he paused, trying to search for a word other than _monsters_, and finally settled on "disturbed individuals."

"Fascinating, Dr Crane. If you'll excuse me, I think I'd like a drink."

Bruce walked over to the bar, but the last thing on his mind was a drink. He'd recently developed a signal device that he could monitor without relying on a cell phone or similar piece of equipment, and it was going off in his ear right now. He continued towards the bar and then faked a yawn, stretching his arms out and opening his mouth wide, making sure that enough people could see it and think he was genuinely tired. He made an apology for his tiredness and quietly ducked out. He headed for his vehicle, getting in and heading for one of many areas where he could rendezvous with the Batmobile and change into his costume. Judging by the strength of the signal, this was going to be serious.

Commissioner Gordon was not happy. Bad enough that Cornelius Stirk, the one-time villain named Wendigo, had scared off his liaison with the Batman, but now no other police officer wanted to be anywhere near Gordon when any kind of super-crime occurred. One or two detectives were brave enough to accompany him to the crime scene, but they were pointedly avoiding Gordon as he waited for his shadowy partner.

"What is it?"

At this point Batman's mysterious appearances didn't startle Gordon anymore, although he was still curious how he could sneak up on him like that. It didn't make it any less annoying, but it didn't make him want to jump out of his skin like it used to. Gordon ushered Batman into the store, pointing him to the owner.

The owner, a small Korean woman in her later years, was curled up in a ball, eyes darting around the building like there was something in there that only she could see. The cash drawer was sitting next to her; coins were scattered all over the place, but there were no bills at all. Batman calmly surveyed the scene and then turned to Gordon.

"What happened here?"

"We don't know. We got a call from the granddaughter, who we have upstairs, saying she heard noises downstairs. She came down and saw, according to her testimony, a masked man using a knife to pry open the cash drawer. Her grandmother there was shrieking her head off, waving her hands around to swat away something that wasn't there."

"What kind of knife did she say he had?"

"Big one. That's all she can remember. What do you think?"

"The girl, what does she look like? Gang tattoos?"

"Yes, but I don't see what that could mean. You think this is some kind of gang fight?"

"Not yet, but I have a theory as to who might have done this. No security cameras?"

"Not in this neighborhood. What do you think?"

"Let the girl go, now. I'll follow her for a few nights, see where she goes. That might be our only lead. Something scared that old woman out of her mind, and it might strike again. I'll be in touch."

Gordon turned to look at Batman, but he had disappeared from the store entirely. He heard tires squealing from the back alley and assumed it was the Batmobile. _That_ was scary, how he could simply vanish like that. If only he could teach some detectives how to do that . . .

Two days later, Razorminx (Suk Lee Kim to her now-catatonic grandmother) was sitting in a warehouse, waiting with the rest of the Golden Dragons for the last gang leaders to arrive. The attack on her grandmother had been the first of many on relatives of different gang members from radically different gangs, and the twelve most powerful had called a truce in order to meet and take action. She didn't have to wait long; the Hill District's Orpheus walked in after a few minutes, and the leaders stepped forward to face each other. Before they could say anything, a voice echoed from above.

"Well, well, well, you all came. I thought I was going to have to attack one of _you_ before you guys got together."

A young man dropped from the rafters, landing directly in the center of the gang leaders. His pale skin was covered in tattoos that made his flesh look rotted away. His face was covered by a gas mask, and the pair of tanks on his back had hoses connected to the devices on his hands, one of which was holding a metal suitcase. The most distinctive part about him, however, was the pair of large, ornately etched knives strapped to his belt. Razorminx recognized them, and him, immediately.

"It's him! He's the one attacking us!"

A large black man, one of the leaders, pulled a gun on the white guy, who simply raised his open hand and aimed the palm at him. Razorminx thought she saw mist spray from it; she wasn't sure, but he had done something. The black man dropped to the ground, screaming and clawing at his face. The white man stood there for a moment, drinking in the pure terror emanating from the crowd before continuing.

"I come to you with a simple offer: Work for me or suffer in fear for . . . actually, I'm not sure how long this stuff lasts. Anyone recover from it yet? No? All right then, suffer for eternity. I offer you stability, and a lasting peace that will let you focus on accelerating our control of the city instead of on infighting and pointless squabbles. You'll still have your territories, but you won't be so obsessed with destroying each other for more. And, if you swear your gang to me, you in charge will receive _this_."

He popped open the suitcase, revealing a dozen syringes filled with an amber-colored liquid. He set it on the ground, letting everyone who could see them gaze upon them in wonder.

"With these injections, you will become immune to pain and fatigue. You'll literally be able to fight forever, barring getting knocked out or killed. You'll be my Deadmen, if you will-"

"I know you! You're that pathetic Zombie dude! I heard you got fired by that mummy guy after getting kicked outta the only gang that would take you!"

"I'll clear that up right now. I have a problem with other people's authority, be they pissant gang leaders or King Tut himself. I was hoping that wouldn't come up, but it seems now I have to test you. I've hidden twelve doses of an antidote to my fear toxin throughout this building. Whoever finds them gains temporary immunity to my toxin and membership in the Deadmen. Everyone else runs away, dies, or suffers . . . _now_!"

A hissing noise echoed from the roof, and panic swept the crowd. People were pushing and shoving, trying to get out or find an antidote. Razorminx ducked down as bullets began flying over the anarchy. She saw a small vial between her feet and grabbed it, sucking down the contents before someone else could see it. Immediately the traces of panic on the edges of her brain disappeared, focusing her mind. She stood up as the masses began dropping, revealing twelve teenagers untouched by the mass hysteria. Zombie waved them forward, and they all came to him.

"So, you're it, huh? Great. Now, forget your old names. You are my Deadmen, and will be given new names after your injections take. Line up now so I can start."

Razorminx was first. As Zombie injected her with his mutagen, he whispered the word "Wight" into her ear. In that instant, she stopped being Razorminx, even stopped being Suk Lee Kim, and became Wight, now and forever. She didn't really pay attention to the others' names, although the red-headed girl with the wrecking bar from the major Irish game was memorably obvious as "Banshee". When the last Deadman was given his injection, Zombie walked out, followed closely by his new gang. It was time to make his presence known, while the other gangs were crippled or running scared. It was time to make _history_.

"Unbelievable. He takes down the most powerful gangs in one night, and he just wants to rob banks and spread panic?"

Batgirl was standing on the edge of the building, carefully balancing herself forty stories over the streets of Gotham. It had been a week since her father had been informed of a mass takedown of the city's major gang leaders, and Zombie had been busy since then. His identity had been revealed after he had left a witness that could identify his unique pair of knives, but that didn't seem to faze him one bit. The question was, how had _Zombie_ gotten his hands on such powerful chemicals as the fear toxin and mutagen he used? According to police files she had "borrowed" from her father's office after the King Tut encounter, Zombie was a dropout, and had been terrible at school before he had run off to join a gang. It just didn't make sense, any of it.

"He's doing more than that. He's proving to the remnants of the gangs, as well as the organized crime outfits, that he's a major player now. The last bank he robbed was a mob bank. Falcone's organization lost an obscene amount of money to Zombie and his flunkies, and he's ready to declare war in order to bring them down. We have to remove him from the streets before that happens. Any ideas?"

"You're asking me? I thought I was just a glorified distraction."

"Your father's in charge of this investigation, and I know you've been sneaking looks at his files. You might know more about this group than I do."

"Okay. No pressure or anything. If I remember correctly, Zombie's mostly been operating around the dockyards. Okay, mostly isn't the right word. Of the different areas he's been working in, the dockyards come up the most, though not by much. Still, that's probably where he is. Maybe we should go there and see if we can find any of his Deadmen to follow."

"Good idea. We need to get there quickly. I think it's time you got to ride in the Batmobile. Don't touch anything."

It took Batgirl a second to get her knees to stop shaking once she got out of the Batmobile. She'd never gone that fast, or that recklessly, in her life; Batman had to be crazy to drive like that all the time. Once she got her sea legs back, she pulled out her grappling line and quickly ascended to the top of one of the warehouses. She could see a group of workers at one of the ships. They looked jumpy, and several armed guards were cautiously patrolling the area. Before long a pair of Deadmen walked up to the guard she assumed to be in charge. She pulled out the binoculars (she was sure there was a different name for them, but she referred to them by their function) and looked down to see Wight, the former Golden Dragon member, and the massive Graveyard, formerly of Igorski's Russian Enforcers, talking to the guard. He looked uncomfortable to be talking to them, but waved them through. They went over to the stacks of containers, where Batgirl lost line of sight to them.

"Don't worry, they'll come out eventually, and then we'll follow them."

"They're _kids_. What kind of potency are we talking about with this fear toxin that Zombie can send kids to stare down mercenaries?"

"We'll find out once we find them, and for that, we need patience. Just wait."

Batgirl didn't want to wait. She wanted to _act_, to jump down and take Wight and Graveyard down, to hang them off a building to question them, to do anything other than wait. Still, Batman had more experience so, if he said to wait, she waited. She'd taken up meditation recently, and tried to calm herself that way, though it didn't seem to be helping any. She opened an eye and saw the two Zombie groupies leaving, Graveyard holding a suitcase that undoubtedly held money. She waved a hand towards Batman to get his attention, pulling out her grappling line at the same time. The chase itself took almost no effort at all; Graveyard and Wight weren't exactly trying to hide their presence. This was their turf, and no one would dare attack them there. They quickly arrived at an abandoned, half-constructed office building on the outskirts of the dock territory. Both heroes found open windows on the highest level and slipped through, walking carefully on the support beams to eavesdrop on whatever was going on below.

Zombie had set up a desk and chair in the center of what might have been intended to be a conference room, with more chairs filled with his Deadmen. Surprisingly, the loot from his crime spree wasn't there. Or not; Zombie had clearly been doing his homework, and even an idiot knew not to keep his whole stash in one spot. He was inspecting the contents of the suitcase. Batgirl was surprised to see, not a pile of money but, instead, a small flash drive intended for a computer. She could just imagine Zombie grinning under his gas mask, though she didn't know why.

"Ah, information, the true prize of this venture. Anyone would pay a fortune for the delivery schedules on this drive, even people like Falcone who want us dead. And it's all thanks to the fear toxin."

"Not any longer, Zombie. Your reign of terror ends now!"

Batman dropped down in front of the desk, leaving Batgirl up in the rafters as backup. The Deadmen stood up, ready to attack if necessary, but Zombie waved them back. He leaned back in his chair, palming the flash drive as he did so.

"Really? I think you misunderstand my intentions. Sure, I thought this was just a trial run, but my supplier thinks that a united gang front works for his plans. My little spree was mean to draw attention to random crimes, all the while showing the rest of the gangs that my way was the quickest path to control. And with my Deadmen to rule the major gangs, I'll have an army ready to drive the crime families out of Gotham for good. I'd think you would find that an admirable goal, Batman."

"The goal, yes, but not the motives. You're doing just as much damage as, if not more than, the Mafia has done. The gangs aren't going to follow you because they want to, but because they're afraid you'll wipe them out if they don't listen. Fear is not the way to run an army."

"But it's okay to make the criminals run scared, is it? You're nothing but a hypocrite. Behind that mask, you're just as scared as anyone else. Well, anyone but me, that is. So, why don't we-"

"Now!"

Batman grabbed Zombie by the front of his shirt and fired his grappling line into the upper supports, hauling him to the finished part of the roof. At the same time Batgirl dropped down, catching a tall black boy in the shoulder as she hit the ground. To her shock he didn't even grunt. It was like he hadn't felt her land on top of him. She quickly leapt out of the way of Banshee's wild swing of a heavy wrecking bar, timing her punch with her rolling jump to knock the other girl sprawling. Banshee spat out a wad of bloody spit but got right back up. _Oh God, what has he done to them? Why can't they feel this?_ She hoped Batman was faring better with Zombie.

As it turned out, Batman hadn't thrown a single punch yet. Zombie had pulled out one of his knives, waving it hypnotically in front of himself to draw Batman's eyes to it. Batman didn't fall for the trick, but he knew from experience that Zombie was more than capable of slicing him to ribbons if he didn't go in carefully. He decided to bait the criminal out, to draw him off-guard.

"You said this was a trial run. A trial for what?"

"My employer wanted to see how effective this toxin was. After the first few days, he told me more about his plans. He wants Gotham free of organized crime, with himself in charge of the gangs. I was only too happy to help."

"You think that, just because you scare other people, you're immune to fear? It's the scary people that are the most afraid."

"Really? Then let's see what scares you!"

Zombie lunged forward, driving his knife towards the symbol on Batman's chest. He grabbed Zombie's wrist to throw him and found himself getting a lungful of aerosol mist as Zombie's other hand passed in front of his face. He found himself disconnected all of a sudden. His parents, Yin, Gotham . . . he had failed them all. He could see the buildings in flame, collapsing as they burnt to ash. He had failed . . .

Batgirl watched Batman drop heavily through the hole in the roof, crashing onto the desk. That sound jarred her and the Deadmen out of their dancing fight, and they all saw Batman down. _Batman was down_. One of the Deadmen walked over, reaching for his mask, but Zombie dropped in front of him, staying his hand. Before Batgirl could step in, Zombie had carefully removed Batman's gloves. He used one of his knives to remove the fingers from them, which he handed over to Batgirl.

"I have what I need. Let him keep playing his little games; I think they'll be _far_ more interesting after tonight. Deadmen, move out."

Zombie walked out, his mutated flunkies falling in behind him. Batgirl tried to carry Batman out through another exit, though she could barely move with him slung over her shoulder, even with the adrenaline pumping through her system. Through some miracle she managed to get him into the Batmobile, although she quickly realized that he was in no condition to drive it. She shifted him over and dropped into the driver's seat. She soon found that the vehicle had an autopilot, pulling her through the streets of Gotham at a breakneck pace. The entire time, she was tearing herself apart inside. How had she not thought to help him against Zombie? The Deadmen wouldn't have been able to get to the roof quickly enough to stop them from beating him, right? How could she have let him down so badly? She didn't notice that they had stopped until an old man in a tux pulled Batman out of the vehicle.

"What happened to him?"

Batgirl vaguely recognized the man, but couldn't place him. She couldn't really process anything right now, but the man's urgent tone forced her to remember and tell him.

"Zombie . . . fear toxin . . . I couldn't help him. I failed-"

The man looked her dead in the eyes. He began talking slowly, as if by being calm and collected he could get Batgirl to calm down. It worked.

"Listen to me. This is not your fault. He knew what he was getting in to. _This is not your fault_. But, if you don't tell me what happened, I might not be able to help him in time. Now, slowly, tell me: What happened?"

"We found Zombie. He – Batman – pulled Zombie out of the room. I was fighting the Deadmen when I saw Zombie spray Batman in the face with his fear toxin. He fell pretty hard, too, so he might be hurt. Is there anything you can" she yawned heavily "do for him?"

"Yes, there is. For now, though, you need to rest. There are several spare bedrooms upstairs. I will take you to one, and you _will_ get some rest. I will come for you when he is better."

Batgirl was too worn out to argue. She let the old man guide her up the stairs and into what appeared to be a small mansion. She collapsed on the bed as soon as he left, without taking any time to study her surroundings. She didn't even take off her mask or cape before she passed out.

Bruce sat up in an instant, the last vestiges of terror fleeing from his mind. He knew immediately what had happened; Alfred had injected him with his experimental antidote to the fear toxin. Apparently, it worked. How had he gotten from the docks to the Batcave, though?

"Miss Gordon is still asleep upstairs, Master Bruce. She was most upset when she got here, and I suspect she will be curious as to your condition, as well as her surroundings, when she wakes up."

Bruce rolled off of the cot he kept in the Batcave to look at Alfred. The older man didn't seem the least bit fazed by his proclamation of Batman's secret identity being possibly revealed. Bruce shook his head.

"I was always wondering when I'd have to tell her who I really was. How long was I out?"

"A few hours. Your anti-toxin works wonders. Congratulations to you, sir."

Bruce sighed. His brush with the fear toxin had taken a lot more out of him than he cared to admit, even to himself. First, though, the more pressing issue of explaining his double life to Barbara. _I just hope she doesn't start calling me "Bruce" when we're in costume_. He headed to the stairs; hopefully, he could catch a shower before having his talk. Apparently the anti-toxin caused undue body odor. He would have to work on that.

Well, this one was a little easier to write. No annoying re-writes. Here goes:

**Scarecrow**

I have a massive endgame scenario planned, and Scarecrow is one of the minds behind such an incident. He was originally supposed to fight Batman himself, but I decided that he'll work better as a puppeteer, working behind the scenes to fight Batman. He might not show up often, but he will make his presence known. Count on it.

**Zombie**

I needed _someone_ to use the fear gas, and once I decided Scarecrow doesn't actually come out and play, I ended up grabbing Zombie, who makes the evolution from washed-up joke to serious supervillain. He and his Deadmen will make interesting opponents in the stories to come; the Deadmen are almost impossible to beat in a fair fight, although their relative hatred of each other will work against them when they get more used to their scary boss. Plus, Zombie will become a bit of a mover and a shaker after a few certain villains appear in later stories. Look for more big things from the up-and-coming gang warlord.

Next time: Magic goes wild as Batgirl and a new hero must protect an ancient artifact from a veritable army of mystical baddies, including old favorites like Spellbinder (who won't just be a side reference this time) and King Tut. See you on the dark side!


End file.
